


For Every Exception

by PinkMedow



Series: The Exception Series [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Break Up, Civil War (Marvel), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 57,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkMedow/pseuds/PinkMedow
Summary: Here’s the thing about war. No one ever really wins. The whole prospect of victor and loser is just a smokescreen to hide the harsh reality of what war really entails. Soldiers come back home with a broken conscious, a broken mind; a broken heart. Lives are lost, sanity is forgotten, love is unrecognizable, and all that is left over is a shell of a human being; a person that was once full of life but is now stuck in the ever-lasting loop of destruction and death that they cannot leave.Here’s the thing about war; you will always lose.Elizabeth Stark learned this the hard way.





	1. Steve Vs Conscience

**Steve Vs Conscience**

**Steve**

_“You lied to me”_

_Liz...._

_“You lied to me, Steve Rogers. How can I be with someone who has done nothing but lie to me since the very first moment?”_

_Her face is broken and red; her tears won’t stop falling out of her eyes, her eyes that portray anguish, betrayal, heartbreak, and hatred._

_I can't move. I can't reach her. Can't comfort her. I can't talk. I can't ask her to listen. I can't try to explain. I can't fix this._

_I can't do anything but watch her eyes harden and her fingers clench, and her heart turns to steel, her walls building up. Kicking me out._

_“I hate you, Steve Rogers. I wish you’d never come out of the ice.”_

_She walks away, without looking back. Taking my heart with me._

_She transforms into Bucky. Cold, lifeless Bucky, bleeding out in front of me, a gunshot through his heart and Tony Stark standing above him, the red and gold suit in pristine shape, but the man wearing it the opposite. He looks as dead as his sister, but his eyes hold a thirst for vengeance, a thirst for revenge. A deadly satisfaction. He looks at me; with no expression, no recognition of the friends we are, the partners we became. He looks at me before walking away too, following his sister._

_I'm left alone. I have no one else. I have nothing else. My heart walked away from me and my soul is dying on the ground._

_I have nothing left._

_I'm dead._

 

 

I shoot up in bed, the action causing the heavy blanket draped against me to go flying across the room, landing with a thump on the floor. The air conditioner provides no comfort for my sweat-soaked self, and I ferociously rub at my face to get rid of the perspiration. My throat feels clogged up and my lungs burn, making me contemplate the chances of my asthma returning at full force.

I haven’t had a dream this bad in a very long time. Not since the last time Sam came to me and told me that they couldn’t find Bucky. Not since I learned that Bucky killed Liz’s parents. Not since the last time Liz talked about them to me; the last time since I lied straight to her face.

The thought of her makes my chest ache once more and I rapidly dart my eyes back to the bed in my panic-filled haze.

The large elephant on my chest finally leaves me when I catch sight of Liz, slumbering peacefully beside me, her long hair creating a brown cocoon around her, obstructing the words on my t-shirt she wears to sleep, the t-shirt that envelopes her, making her look smaller than she actually is. Her hands rest under her cheek and the fact that only she can smile in her sleep brings a small smile to my face.

She’s here. She hasn’t left. She’s here, and she’s with me. She’s okay. I’m okay. Seeing her gets rid of the panic in my chest and the burning in my lungs, but it doesn’t ease the desperation or the anguish I feel at how real the dream seemed.

I crawl to the edge of the bed and pick the blanket up off the ground, draping it over the two of us as I slowly rest myself back into the bed. I tug Liz closer to me, and bury my head in her hair, the familiar scent of strawberries instantly soothing me, bringing me a much-welcomed calm.

“Steve,” She mumbles into my shirt and I sigh guiltily for waking her up. She left for work at six in the morning today and had emergency after emergency and only came back home at 2 am.

She tilts her head to look up at me, and although the room is bathed in a soft blue, I watch fascinated (everything about this women is fascinating; from the way she rapidly blinks for a minute after she wakes to get used to her surroundings to the way she yawns right after) as she gets accustomed to the dim lighting of our large room (large for me, probably not for her, who has lived in much larger).

“Hey,” I whisper, even though she’s awake and there’s no one else in the loft.

“What’s wrong?” she squints up at me slightly, and my heart bursts in a way not known possible at the way this woman knows me so well.

I shake my head, despite pulling her closer than she already is (it isn’t possible) until she’s practically lying on top of me.

“It's nothing. Just a bad dream,” I tell her, knowing that she’s not nodding in sympathy but rather understanding.

“Wanna talk about it?” She cups my jaw and runs her thumb across the very light stubble growing there. 

_Yes. Yes, I do._

“No, it was nothing. You're here. It's all that matters.” I brush the hair out of her face to see her eyes brighten, and dip my head down so that our foreheads brush together and we’re only a breath apart.

“I love you, Steve Rogers,”

It's not the first time she’s said this to me, but damn, my heart stops beating every time she does.

“I love you Elizabeth Stark. I don't remember the last time I’ve loved anyone as much as I love you.”

Her lips softly capture mine and the kiss evaporates the remains of the burning in my lungs, the panic in my brain, and the fear in my heart. All that is left is the love I have for the woman in front of me, and the soft calling of sleep.

Without saying anything (I have discovered that a sleepy Liz, is usually a quiet Liz), Liz snuggles into my chest, grabbing a fistful of my plain shirt, before her breaths even out, and I'm left with the lightness in my heart, guilt in my conscience, and fear and despair everywhere else.

Because I know how close my dream is going to be to reality. I'm hiding a secret from the women I love, a secret that could potentially destroy her, and I should probably tell her. I should wake her up and tell her, tell her about her parents, about Bucky, about everything.

If I do, I’ll lose Bucky. While it may be possible to convince Liz of Buck’s innocence, the task of convincing Tony will be well near impossible. He’ll go after Bucky, and I can't have that. I can't lose him. Not again.

And so I allow my eyes to close, mentally juggling between Liz and the life I have built for myself in the past five years or Bucky and the life before the ice, my life. 

And so I allow myself to scumbag into sleep knowing that one way or the other, I'm going to lose either one of them or both.

Soon.

**Tony**

I fiddle around with the headpiece, contemplating whether I will have enough time to rip it apart, look for errors and put it back together. Not that the university will care anyway; with the funds I'm giving them, they won’t even remember the presentation. But I have a reputation to live up to and I plan to keep that until the day I die. 

The elevator dings someone’s arrival and I feel myself perk up when I hear the clicking of heels, hoping to whatever divinity is up there that it's Pepper, deciding not to cancel on the presentation and us. I feel my heart slightly deflate, but myself perk up (like a fucking dog) a little more when it's not Pep, but my sister, wearing one of those professional dresses Pepper loves to wear (but Liz hates) and a pair of ridiculously tall heels.

“Hey ya, Tony.” She swings herself onto the marble counter after giving me a peck on the cheek.

“What? No morning sex with Rogers?” I force the bile that appears in my throat when my mouth gets ahead of my brain. I may not ramble as she does, but I do also lack a filter.

She blushes, but swats my arm in retaliation, rolling her eyes at me as she answers the question, “Steve went to for a mission in Lagos or something. And I happen to know for a fact that you have the leftover muffins that Lucille made when she visited us and gave us a thank you gift for supporting her restaurant which didn't need any supporting at all because it's such a successful restaurant. I mean even they’re water tastes divine. Maybe they put something in the water. I’ll have to ask her next time. But if she’s putting things in the water, chances are that she won’t tell me, right? Cause you know, super-secret chef and all.” She’s started munching on the last chocolate muffin that chef Lucille had gifted us with last week. I wipe off the chocolate chip stain on her cheek, and she smiles her thanks.

I fiddle around with the headpiece once more and wonder if the slight scratch mark I see when I bring it close to my face will affect the overall effectiveness of BARF.

“It's the best thing you have ever come up with Tony. After the suit of course. And the arc reactor, that was phenomenal. Oh and obviously Jarvis. He’s the very best thing you’ve ever created. But BARF’s pretty high on the list too.” I’ve stopped wondering how she could possibly read my mind so well and instead focused on being grateful for the fact that she can.

“It's just that I’ve never been so...” I look at her, not wanting to admit it out loud, knowing that she will understand and do it for me.

“...personally and emotionally out there before.” She finishes for me.

I see her take in a deep breath before admitting, “So have I.”

I know. She’s a ball of sunshine who gives everything she has to people. Everything except for the small increment of pain inside of her and the darkness she had to trudge through in the past. Elizabeth Stark may give others her hard work, dedication, light, and warmth, but she’ll never give them her darkness. That part of her is closed into a tightly woven ball and stuffed in the corner of her mind and heart where it is dying to come out. She does no good to herself or others by keeping it locked in.

“They’d be proud Tony.” She says softly and quietly, muffin finished and legs swinging reminding me so much of a time when she was six and everything was simple and good.

“Of both of us.” I remind her.

The kitchen goes quiet for a moment, before she softly whispers into the silence, “If I used BARF than I wish that I wasn’t asleep when they left.”

She was nursing off a hangover for the first time that morning because of the party she went to the night before, she doesn’t even remember my dad coming to pick her up or my mom putting her to bed. The last words she said to them was “bye, don't wait up, I’ll probably stay over at Charlie’s.”

And since we’re playing the ‘what ifs and I wish’ game for the very first time in our lives, I contribute, “I wish I took the plane home instead of staying behind because of a childish grudge I had on dad.”

“I wish we spent more time together as a family.”

“I wish he wasn’t a genius”

“I wish I had a time machine.”

“I wish I could just stop wishing and move on.” I sigh as I finish the sentence and rest my head on the back of my chair.

“Then lets.” My eyes snap open at Liz’s odd request because out of the two of us, she was the one obsessed on finding about their deaths, and holding onto mom and dad with all she had left.

At my shocked expression, she jumps off the counter, trembling on her heels (still ridiculously long. Why do women need to be five extra inches tall anyway?) before telling me with a small smile, “I'm just so tired of holding onto what happened years ago. I feel like it's the only thing keeping me, keeping the two of us from moving on. We have something really great going for us now and we can't fully appreciate it because what happened to mom and dad is still looming in our heads. We don't have to let them go but we need to let their deaths go. They’re gone Tony, nothing is going to change that.”

I know. God, I know. If anything could have changed that, I would have immediately thought of it and killed myself trying to make it happen. But life and death is one aspect that is completely out of my control. It's better that way.

But I’m curious, “What changed your mind.”

“Well, it was Steve, actually. He was the first person other than you that I told about mom and dad. How I felt about mom and dad. He found a way to get it through to me that what happened to them was an accident, and I have no reason to be guilty because I couldn’t have saved them even if I tried. My powers can't stop an accident that no one knew was going to happen. I guess its easy taking advice from someone who is practically an expert at getting a grip on reality and moving on.”

For the first time, I thank whatever God is up there for Steve Rogers. Because as much as I loathe to admit it, he helped my sister in ways I hadn’t known possible, in ways that I couldn’t, and I am deeply indebted to the man for that itself.

“Sir, Mr. Hogan tells you to, and I quote, hurry your ass up before I call Rhodey.” Jarvis’ voice surrounds the room and I ignore the pang I feel when I know that a couple of months ago, it would have been Pepper he was threatening me with instead of Rhodes.

Liz seems to understand my distress, “Hey, you two are meant for each other. Just because you’re taking a break doesn’t mean it's over. You’ll find your way to each other, you always do. Might I remind you of the 265 resignation letters we found in Peppers cupboard when we helped her clean it out so that she could move in with you? Well, I cleaned it out. You two were too busy going at it like rabbits to help, but you know...not a helpful or appropriate post temporary break up topic.”

“Mr. Stark—“

I groan, “Ya, I'm coming, J. Tell Happs to keep it in his pants.”

My sister giggles, before walking out of the Stark Tower with me. I spot Rick, her driver, parked behind my limo, and give her a kiss on her cheek as a goodbye.

“Go save lives and make me look bad,” I tell her.

She stops her pursue to her car and spins around to face me, one eyebrow raised, a cheeky grin paired with a glint in her eyes, reminding me that I haven’t completely forgotten how Beth (you know, my biological sister and Liz’s actual mom who died before she even became an official mother) looks like.

“Go save students and make me look dumb.”

**Liz**

“You know, for someone whose boyfriend just took off on a plane to the other side of the world, you look awfully happy.” Charlie rests her arms against her desk, wiggling her eyebrows in a manner that makes me smile wider than I already am.

“You make it sound like he packed his bags and ran away or something.” I mock accusingly tell her, and relish in her laugh, healthy and bright, now that she’s back to full strength since she fell off a five-story building courtesy of Wanda Maximoff. Not that I'm still bitter about that or anything.

“What if he has?” Charlie’s eyes are wide in mock shock and I fling my closed purse at her, and she, who has been dealing with me for years, ducks gracefully, not one hair out of place when she comes back up.

“Shut up Char.” I make sure she sees my eye rolling, before I walk into my office, ready to shrug off the persona of CEO for the one that I love most, Doctor Stark.

I walk down the busy halls of the hospital, my eyes focused on the chart in front of me, holding a list of names of patients that need tending.

When I reach the fifth floor, I make an immediate beeline to the main office, handing the chart to Sylvia, who, despite being seven months pregnant for the second time, doesn’t look a day over twenty.

“Darling, you’re the boss; you’re supposed to assign the jobs.” She sends me a scolding look that I'm pretty sure her eight-year-old son at home receives when he treks into the house with his muddy boots.

Snatching my white coat off the hanger, I place it on, telling her behind my back, “And since I’m the boss, I say that you should assign the jobs.”

I’m out the door before she can respond and I make my way into room 322, smiling at six-year-old Jack and his parents.

“Hi there.” I focus all my attention on the young boy since I already spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Mulchan on the phone this morning and know all I need to know in order to operate on Jackson’s arm.

After a few adorable sniffles, he manages to greet me back, “Hi.”

“Do you remember me, Jack?” I ask him, crouching down so the two of us are at eye level.

He nods bashfully, all dark hair and bright eyes, reminding me so much of Tony when he was younger.

“Okay, so we’re going to get your arm fixed so that it doesn’t hurt anymore. But I'm going to need you to come into the other room with me, and your mommy and daddy are going to have to stay here. Can we do that?”

The boy’s been given a small anesthesia shot, enough so that the pain isn’t unbearable, but not altogether gone. However, at the mentioning of his parents not being there, Jack’s face crumples up and tears began to swarm his eye. I look around the room and rack my head for any type of indication or reassurance to make him feel better and to get him to come with me.

It's then that I notice his shirt.

“Do you like Captain America, Jack?” I ask him, pointing at the shirt that displays Steve’s shield, all blue and red and star.

He seems confused by the question but nods nevertheless, wiping his eyes with his chubby hands.

I lean in closer, mock whispering to him, “Do you want me to tell you a secret?”

His eyes widen and he leans closer to me too, curiosity brimming his green eyes.

“I actually know Captain America.” In the corner of my eye, I see his parents, who undoubtedly read the magazines, which have Steve and my face plastered all over it, chuckle.

But Jack’s face turns star struck and I internally fist pump at getting his attention.

“Really?”

I smile and hold out my hand, “Ya. And I’ll tell you all about it. But we can't tell your mum and dad, it's supposed to be a secret.”

He hesitates for a moment, looking between his parents and me, but eventually, he places his good hand in mine, and we slowly walk out of the room.

I start my story.

“Before Captain America was Captain America, he was Steve Rogers. And Steve Rogers didn't have big muscles, or a costume or a fancy shield. He was just a little boy, just like you.”

He looks at me weirdly, “But Liz, how did he beat bad guys if he was just a little kid!”

I carefully pick him up and place him on the kid-friendly operating table, bright blue with little dinosaurs on it.

“He wanted to save the world. He wanted to do the right thing. He didn't need to be strong or fast to do that. He just needed a big heart, and a lot of determination.”

I tie the mask behind my neck, but I don't put it on just yet, I keep Jack occupied just as Prescott injects him with the anesthesia that he doesn’t notice over his conversation with me and the pain in his arm that is slowly starting to hurt just a little more.

“That means I can be Captain America,” He drowsily says, the pain medication starting to take effect.

“Yes you can,” I place the mask over my mouth, just as he closes his eyes.  

“I love Captain America,” He mumbles incoherently, just before he falls asleep and the nurses and surgeons come rushing into the room, ready to fix his broken arm.

_So do I kiddo, so do I._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. The Avengers Vs The Accords

**The Avengers Vs The Accords**

**Natasha**

“And what word would you chose Mr. Secretary?” I decide to humor him, wondering how long he’ll be able to keep up the facade where it seems as if he’s on our side.

I have no idea what this meeting is about. Stark just walked into the Tower, Ross following him, and commanded everyone to meet in the conference room. Whatever it is, it seems as if Stark didn't really have much of a choice by the way he’s dejectedly sitting in a chair at the back, silent and unresponsive, unlike his normal babbling self.

Every single one of us Avengers is present. We take up almost the whole glass mahogany table with an exception of a few seats. The Avengers Tower has been modified a couple of times in the past few months, with the exception of this room, Tony’s workshop and a few other rooms. Sometimes I wonder if this room was never changed because it was Stark’s least favourite room in the entire building. Nothing about the room screamed Tony Stark, leading for me to believe that Stark had intentionally kept the room this way, especially since the only people the ever saw this room were board investors, potential business company owners, and sometimes executive officers, all of whom which Stark hated; apparently Ross in on the list.

Not that I like him very much either, with all his bullcrap about his owing a great debt to us, and how we’re heroes. None of that fits the terminology of what Shield dug up on him a few years ago, and while Shield may not be the best resource at the moment, it is almost the only one we have.

But my question finally gets him to reveal his cards, because the fake pleasant smile is gone and he retorts back, “How about dangerous? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind.”

There’s the Ross I heard about. I roll my eyes, at his explanation, trying not to think of all the ways it applies to us, all the ways what he says is true. Back in SHIELD, we had a code, a strict procedure of what to do and not to do, everything government approved. We made sure there were minimum casualties, and even if there were, we made sure the government took care of it. Us Avengers, we don't do a single thing about anything.

The red seeping into my ledger is halted when the familiar click of heels approaches the conference room, and Elizabeth Stark walks into the room babbling as she does, in true Elizabeth Style.

“Why the hell are we in Tony’s ugly room? Isn’t this the room we take all the jackasses we hate because they don't...” She trails off when she notices Ross and I see the heat rise to her cheeks, “Mr. Secretary. I didn't know that you’d be in here today. Actually, I didn't realize you would ever be in here, any day.”

Ross seems unaffected by the fact that Liz just revealed that he’s a jackass Tony Stark hates. He must be a jackass many people hate then.

“You’re late Ms.Stark. I didn't realize you had the same punctuality problem as your brother.”

Rule number one; do not insult Elizabeth’s Stark’s brother in front of her face.

“And I didn't realize you were my high school math teacher. Or that I’m twelve and have a curfew.” One perfectly shaped brow rises up and I have to swallow a smirk at the uncomfortable way Ross shifts in his spot.

He won’t ever admit it, and we won’t ever say it aloud, but everyone in this room knows that Ross is slightly scared of Elizabeth Stark.

“Besides, I would have come much earlier, if my dear brother would have informed me of the meeting, maybe?” She sweetly smiles at her brother, and I see a small smile flash onto Tony’s face for the first time today.

“You did an open heart surgery. I wanted to give you a few minutes to calm down before you walked into another earthquake.”  He crosses his arms and sulks further into his chair and I see Liz manage to roll her eyes despite the confusion and worry on her face.

“I love how he makes it sound as if I was the one having surgery instead of performing it,” She looks around at the crowded table and smiles at every one of us, “How was the mission?”

Right, the mission. The mission where we ultimately failed and killed thousands of innocent people because of some stupid vendetta Rumlow had against Captain America and we were all tugged into the mess.

Liz seems to sense the table going dark, and she automatically makes her way to Steve, “What happened. He didn't get away, did he?”

Steve just sighs and tugs her onto his lap where she goes willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her thumbs rubbing the small crease on his forehead.

I’m glad the two of them got their act together. Honestly, it was in a long time coming, especially since their heart eyes extended long before the Avengers were even created.  Most of us Avengers are used to the openly affectionate ways of the couple, even Liz’s brother himself, but Ross seems quite bothered by it, clearing his throat loudly, and it gets the young doctor’s attention.

She looks at Ross, her hands still caressing Steve’s face (God these two are so cute. It makes my teeth ache. They’re worse than Clint and Laura), “Why are we here Mr. Ross?”

The screen on the glass comes to life, “You’ll see for yourself, Ms. Stark.”

I have to keep myself from falling apart, or breaking Ross’s neck during the next two minutes, as he plays the video of Bruce, and Tony, and Steve, and everything, breaking and falling apart, as if we were the ones who asked for Loki to come and ruin our earth, as if we asked Hydra to infiltrate shield, as if we asked for Rumlow to become an international terrorist. None of this is our fault.

But yet it is.

We could have fought this in a less contained area. We could have lured them out to somewhere safe. We could have found a way to prevent the people from dying.

We were lost, new, and powerful. We didn't know what to do, but we thought we could do everything.

Not for the first time am I thinking that the Avengers are nothing compared to these big governments. They can squish us with their thumb in a matter of seconds if they wanted to.

And when I meet Liz’s eyes from across the table, where she stops looking the video and looks at me, I know what we have to do.

We need to accept whatever Ross has to offer us, and not make ourselves the enemy of the world’s governments. We can't be heroes; we can't save people if we’re declared vigilantes, if we’re criminals.

I didn't expect the Accords though. No one did.

So when I look at the solid acceptance in Tony’s eyes and the fight in Steve’s I know that we’re going to have a problem.

Especially since I already chose a side.

**Rhodey**

“I have to go.”

Steve marches out of the room, almost breaking into a sprint, hopefully, because of the message that he just received saying god knows what instead of the fact that he’s solidly against the Accords and Tony, Nat and Vision are.

Wanda and Sam dutifully trot after Steve, probably to make sure that he’s okay and all that is left in the room is Liz, Tony, Nat, Vision, Pietro and I. Two of three are yet to confirm their side on the matter, and I really hope that we do a majority wins type of thing and all decide to sign the thing or not because, from all I have witnessed and know, nothing ever good comes out of a fight for something as stupid as this.

Not that any of it is that stupid in my opinion. The valid options seem pretty obvious at this point; Sign or become a fugitive. Natasha’s point made sense, why give away all your control of being an Avenger, when you can still have some. Either way, it was already obvious that we needed to change up our game, especially after what happened in Lagos, maybe if we all recognized the damage we were doing a long time ago, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But we are and we need to fix it.

“Pietro?” Natasha addresses the enhanced sitting quietly on the sofa, uncharacteristically quiet since we received the Accords.

Her silent question doesn’t need to be voiced; which side are you on. More aptly, whose side are you on?

“I agree with the Accords.” He says looking at Tony; things between the Maximoffs and him haven’t completely cooled off, but the boy had grown to respect the man and be slightly awed of his brains (not to mention the cool running shoes he specifically designed for Pietro), “But I'm not doing anything without talking to my sister.”

That’s expected. Tony nods and the boy whizzes away, finally learning how to control the trails of ice he left behind, and was scolded for by Liz after someone slipped and fell.

Speaking of, we’ve come to the second person who’s yet to confirm which side she supports. While most people may assume that she would automatically follow her brother, a few know that Elizabeth Stark does what Elizabeth Stark wants to do, everyone and anyone else is damned.

I really hope she takes on that mentality for this situation as well since the two sides are practically being led by her brother, and her boyfriend (who most definitely won’t be able to top her brother, but comes pretty damn close, closer than any of us have ever been).

As if noticing everyone’s eyes on her, Liz looks away from the door for the first time, and I see the mental war raging through her head. For some of us other than Tony, who seems hell-bent on carrying the whole damn world and their blames on his shoulders, the struggle of whether which choice is wrong or right is real.

Liz’s struggle, however, is how much her choice is going to hurt everyone. She’s already made a decision, she would be pacing back and forth murmuring to herself if she hadn’t, but now she’s weighing the pros and cons, internally guessing on how much of a toll it would take on her relationships with the people she loves.

“Lizzie?” Tony looks at her expectantly, not to choose his side, but to give him an answer.

She looks at the door again and then back at her brother, seemingly debating her options. Finally, she gets up and makes a beeline for the door, “I have to go,” she hurriedly yells, grabbing her coat on the way out of the building.

Although I know he will support his sister despite anything, I see the way his shoulders drop to the ground, “Well, there’s her choice.”

I place a hand on his shoulder, “You know her. She’s never going to do something she doesn’t want to. Besides, she hasn’t told us her choice yet.”

She hasn’t, but I have a good feeling about what she chose. Growing up as a Stark’s best friend gave me much-needed insight into their lives, the things they do, the choices they make, the way they make their choices.

Just like the time, Liz ran after her mother and spent the whole day with her before ultimately leaving for Boston with Tony.

Some things never change.

**Steve**

“Jim Morita was the most loyal, hardworking, and brave man I know.” Peggy stands strong and tall, wearing a black dress and a hat, her curls framing her face.

She has a small smile on her face, allowing only nostalgia and reminiscence to show to the audience, but I can see the shake of her legs and the tight clenching of her hands on the stand.

Jim and Peggy were the last ones left of the Howling Commandos, not including Bucky. He was frail and sick, bedridden with pneumonia for the majority of the final years of his life, and while he could barely speak due to his clogged up throat, he always made it his mission, to try and rest a comforting hand on mine whenever I visited.

I remember all that he had done for me, and I wish I could be able to go up there are tell all these people what kind of man he really was, what extents he went to in order to keep this world safe, all that he had sacrificed to follow me. But the truth is; I don't really know him, not as much as Peggy does. She spent most of her life with him, while the extent that I knew Jim only extends to guns, weaponry, and Hydra.

“But the one thing about Jim that made him so unique compared to anyone else, was the way he believed in what he thought was right, and fought his very best for it. He fought for his beliefs, and stood by his definition of rightness, and that, in my eyes is the best kind of hero.”

She took a breath, and a series of images float through my head, mainly the Accords. I lost my freedom for 50 years. Lost it because the government decided that a war was the best way to resolve things. I lost my life because I listened to people, listened to my higher officials, didn't do anything until I had orders. I was a soldier, but not a Captain. Not anymore. I will not bend to someone, to people that don't care about the greater good. The government is corrupt. It's one of the things I have discovered during the fall of SHIELD. The more control I give the government, the more I lose myself. I lost so much of myself. I can't afford to lose anymore.

Peggy Carter speaks once more; she was always my voice of reason, she always told me what to do, I could always trust her to say the things I need to hear, “Compromise where you can. Where you can’t, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong, is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye and say, no, you move. And that is exactly what Jim Morita did.”

I’m not signing the Accords. I'm not bending my back for anyone. I'm not compromising my life, my freedom, my morals and rules for anyone; not the government, not the Avengers, not Liz.

 

 

I end up staying at the grand church after the sermon is over. After everyone has left, after Peggy places and comforting hand on my shoulder and a kiss on my cheek before a group of bodyguards carefully lead her out of the chapel, after the flowers are gone, and the picture is removed, and the place is left empty.

It as if I'm stuck in a trance, my hands in the pocket of the suit that Sam bought for me (After thanking Him for my choice to punch bags in the gym that day I met Liz, I thank God for my choice to run in that park that one morning).

I don't hear the doors open to the church, or acknowledge the other being in the room with me, not until they place a hand on my shoulder, the touch loving, comforting, and warmth. The type of warmth I usually associate with,

“Liz,” Seeing her brightens my damp day. I feel slightly guilty for the way I stormed out on the Avengers during the meeting, the last thing I wanted to display was that fact that I’m not willing to stay and negotiate beyond my version of right or wrong.

“Aunt Pegs called. Told me about Jim.” Her hand trails down my arm until our fingertips are brushing each others'.

“You knew him?” I ask her, our hands in a life of their own, doing their own dance together, touching and stroking and curving.

She shrugs, “Not very well. He used to come by for some family functions, but we barely talked. The last time I saw him was at mom and dad’s funeral.”

I ignore the panic in my chest and the knot in my stomach when she mentions her parents. The guilt for not telling her is eating me up alive. It was one of the things holding me back from her before we started this, whatever this is. It was easier (or so I tell myself) to protect her from the truth of her parents’ death when I was pretending not to be halfway in love with her (didn't do a very good job. Wasn’t halfway in love with her. At that point, I had already fallen hard despite trying so hard not to). Now, it seems to be a permanent dark cloud on top of my head.

“Hey,” She cups my face with her small, soft hands, and I instinctively lean into her touch, unable to hold the truth in anymore.

“Liz...”

_Bucky killed your parents._

“I'm not signing the Accords,” I say instead. In the end, I'm a coward. I'm scared to lose both her and him and my inability to make a choice is going to end up with me losing both, if not everything. Still, I hold onto whatever hope I have that maybe she’ll understand, that maybe we’ll be able to work it out.

(Not unless you tell her now. Not if she figures on her own.)

She tilts her head and smiles a bittersweet smile, “Ya. Ya, I figured.”

I blow out a harsh breath, wondering when my life, our life, ended up so complicated, coming to the conclusion that it was never normal, not since I volunteered to take the serum and not since she got hit by some magic lightning, “But you are.”

It's a matter of fact. I see it in her eyes, the way that despite there being a usual happiness as always, it's tinged with a slight debate, confusion, fear, and sadness.

Whatever she sees in mine causes her to rush and explain, “I know that you think its losing freedom, but this is fifty countries we’re talking about and if I don't sign, the government officials of fifty countries will see me as an enemy. And I would n’t really care about the governments of fifty countries if they didn't have the say and potential to ruin Stark Med Care, and I worked so hard for that. It's important to me.”

I give her a small smile to encourage her to continue. It's one of the many things I love about her. She speaks her mind, she says things as it is, she doesn’t hide. Not like me. “Even so...”

She lets out a surprised burst of laughter at my guess (not really a guess. I may not be Tony Stark, but I know Liz), “Even so, I think the Accords are actually a good idea. And if we can find a way to actually stay in control of it, it could be amazing.”

I close my eyes, and dip my head down so that it's touching hers, “What about...”

_What’s going to happen to us?_

The motion of her stepping back causes me to open my eyes once again, the panic building up over whether this is the moment where she decides that I'm not enough, that the Accords is enough to break us apart, that we should end it because there is no way we can work with those documents looming above us.

“I love you.” She says the three words that I love hearing from her, the firmness of her voice resonating through the church.

I place my hands in my pockets, “but...”

She shakes her head, “There is no but. I love you and I'm not letting a piece of paper come in the way between the two of us. You’re your own person and you’re entitled to make your own decisions, and your own choices. I'm okay with that.”

The panic is removed from my chest as I finally take a breath ever since the Accords were presented to us in the Tower. I didn't realize how much I needed to hear the words from Liz.

I watch, as the firmness in her eyes is replaced by something, more hesitant, something more unsure,

“Unless you...”

God this women is an enigma. Here I am, worrying about how I'm going to survive without her, and she’s worried about whether or not I'm willing to stay with her.

I don't let her complete her sentence, because I'm closing whatever distance we have and my lips are on hers. The kiss is wild, and rushed, full of unspoken things like thanks, I'm scared, confused, and I love you.

When we break apart for the necessity of oxygen, she murmurs softly, her breath fanning my face, speaking into the shared air, “I'm going to Vienna for the signing. I know you’re not coming. But if you do change your mind, we’ll be there. Otherwise, don't get into trouble.”

I search her eyes for a very long time, trying to find something, anything, to tell me that I'm dreaming, that this is all an illusion fabricated by my mind to take away the hurt I will feel when she decides to walk away.

 I find nothing.

“We’re going to be okay,” I whisper, trying to convince myself.

She wraps her arms around my neck, standing on her toes in order to do so, and my arms cage her waist, burying my nose in her hair, the scent of strawberries assaulting me. “We are okay.”

And somehow, despite her words, actions and reassurances, somehow, some part of me has a terrible, horrible feeling in my gut.

That this may be one of the last times, I will receive a hug from Elizabeth Stark.


	3. Sam Vs The Childhood Hero

** Sam Vs The Childhood Hero  **

**T’Challa**

Vienna is a beautiful city. It's plagued with massive tall buildings that Shuri would scoff at, calling it ancient and outdated. Personally, I enjoy the classic infrastructure of the world outside of Wakanda, and as I look down at the various reporters, people, and executives entering the building, I have to marvel at the ethnicity, and bilingualism of the people in the Capital of Austria. A beautiful city for a beautiful country.

I've never really seen anything beyond the walls of Wakanda, the only memory of leaving my home to New York vague and unidentifiable. Being thrust into this hectic and fast-paced world seems quite daunting at first, but after looking into the eyes of these people, the people who don't truly understand the meaning of life and wisdom, it is easy to feel as if they and I are not at all that similar. There is much I don't know that they do, and all the same, there is much for them to learn.

Being King will entail for me to learn the ways and methods of these people if I am ever to rule a fraction of the way my father does.   

“Excuse me, Ms. Stark, Ms. Romanoff, these need your signature.”

The familiar names cause me to turn away from my careful inception back to the interior of the building, crowded with people and chatter, and cameras.

I survey the people until Elizabeth Stark and Natasha Romanoff come to view, the later singing the documents presented to her while her companion (teammate, friend) reads the fine print, her eyes quickly skimming and gathering the information necessary.

Natasha Romanoff. She was quite a mystery up until she leaked her and thousands’ files to the public during the fall of SHIELD. She became an open book afterward, but I admire the way it didn't stop her from living her life, as well as she can live it being a trained assassin. I see she’s traded her customary leather jacket and combat boots for something slightly more formal and unlike her, and I manage to make a connection with someone who feels as uncomfortable here as much as I do.

I walk up to her, speaking as I go along, catching her attention, “I suppose neither of us is used to the spotlight.”

She and her companion (who is now placing her signature on the document) meet me halfway but Ms. Romanoff responds, “Well, it's not always so flattering.”

I wouldn’t really know. Being the heir to the throne and son of the king, the media, always portrayed my family and me as nothing but exceptional, they didn't really have a choice but to do so. I assume things work differently here. Especially since Agent Romanoff’s last debacle at the Capitol. I decide that for both our sakes, honesty is the best way to roundabout the conversation,

“You seem to be doing alright so far. Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill, I wouldn’t think you’d be particularly comfortable in this company.”

“I'm not.” She answers honestly, although there is a much necessary coldness in her eyes, it has to be there if she is going to survive.

I nod understandingly, making sure that I don't portray too much sympathy; it may work on most women but not these ones, “Well that alone makes me happy you are here Ms. Romanoff.”

“Why?  You don't approve of all this,” She notices the tone, stiffness, and demeanor easily, and I don't remember the last time I've been read so well by someone other than my father.

“The Accords, yes. The politics; not really,”

Then, for the first time since I got there, Elizabeth Stark finally speaks up, even though it is muttered under her breath, “Well that makes two of us.”

I feel the scrunch of my brows as I quickly asses her, realizing that I forgot to do so previously.

Elizabeth Stark. Contrary to her friend beside her, she is an absolute open book; her life was portrayed on the media ever since she was born; singlehandedly ran a hospital, and became the most powerful being Earth has encountered. She dresses just as professionally as Ms. Romanoff does, and even though I've seen her in a countless amount of attires as such, she still looks uncomfortable. In addition, she doesn’t try and hide her disappointment over the fine theatrics and dramatics of signing the Accords, and I really have to agree with her.

“Ms. Stark,” I address her for the second time in my lifetime (the first being during an international, online conference call) and I see the hint of red creep in her cheeks at mumbling so loudly, “You don't like this.”

It's more of a question than a statement, but it seems to break her wall of silence.

“Well of course! How would you like it if a random ass man came into your home, threatened your freedom with a piece of paper, and then dragged you halfway across the world so that you can sign it in front of 200 countries? I mean, I totally agree with the Accords, don't get me wrong. It's a great idea. But now Tony thinks I ditched him for Steve and Steve thinks I ditched him for Tony where in reality I ditched both of them for myself and it isn’t selfish or anything...is it selfish?”

I look at Natasha with a panicked haze in my eyes, I've heard all about Ms. Stark’s famous word vomits, but I've never expected to be on the receiving end of it, let alone be expected to respond back. Natasha (the traitor) just looks at me, shrugs and smirks, as if telling me, ‘you got yourself into this’.

“No, Ms. Stark. I completely agree. Not with you being selfish, I don't think you could be capable of that,” she raises her brows in disbelief but I keep going, “as for all of this,” I raise my hand to gesture around, “In my opinion, two people can get more done than a hundred.” 

“Unless you are moving a piano,” Baba, walks up towards me, his face happy, shining and positive, in him reflected everything I aspire to become; a good king and a better man.

He smiles affectionately at me before turning to the two ladies, “Ms. Stark, Ms. Romanoff.”

The two women nod respectively and address him, Natasha with a solemn grin and Elizabeth with a bright smile, the contrast, and likeliness of the two women showing immediately.

“King T’Chaka, please allow me to apologize for what happened in Nigeria.” She is genuine and open, and I can see that Baba sees it too; otherwise, he wouldn’t have given her a small smile and encouragement,

“Thank you. Thank you for agreeing to all of this. I'm sad to hear that Mr. Rogers won’t be joining us.”

I don't blame him, he doesn’t watch the celebrity news like Shuri does, and he does not get roped into watching it along with her as I do. So, naturally, he doesn’t have a clue of the relationship between Mr. Rogers and Ms. Stark, but both Natasha and I get a glimpse of Ms. Stark’s shuttered expression, allowing me to see the things that she had previously hid with a smile.

The primary one being fear. Fear is powerful and all-consuming unless we learn to control it. When choosing between two people you love, it is impossible to control the fear that accompanies that; the fear of abandonment and loss. I don't know what I would do if I was ever put in a position to choose between Shuri and Baba, I don't think I can choose.

However, the four of us (including her herself) know that Ms. Stark didn't pick any side but hers. She chose herself and what she decided and thought was right.

Here is to hoping that the ones she loves most will also understand the same.

But my moral thoughts about understanding and forgiveness are blown apart along with the building, as the bomb that detonates kills hundreds on impact, including one of the three people I have left.

And as I rock my father back and forth, I allow myself the release of a few tears before I make a final vow to my father;

Vengeance.

**Sam**

I am a great friend.

A wonderful friend.

The best friend in the entire planet.

Who else would travel all the way to London so that their best friend wouldn’t be alone during the loss of a friend, keep them company during the funeral, give them their best suit, and then play chaperone while they (the not single best friend) flirts with a ninety-year-old woman (with all due respect) and just won’t get on the elevator.

I’ve read the first magazine and am now looking through the news, watching as some city blew up. Again.

It's only when I see a familiar face with bright red hair that I run to the front desk asking for a remote, turning the volume up all the way in order to properly listen before I lose my shit.

“We have received live footage of the bombing in Vienna, where the Avengers were present along with several other countries to sign the Accords, a government based agreement for the Avengers to work with the government and...”

They pan across the city, wreaked and torn, and I watch in horror as people are wheeled in and out of the building, and while Natasha Romanoff is clearly alive and well, I see no sign of the others. Sure Tony Stark will be scanning the building, talking to the press and the officials, but I have to wonder where Rhodey and Vision are. Where Liz is.

Deciding this an appropriate situation to interrupt Steve and Peggy Carter, I make my way to the elevators, where Steve smiles for the first time since the Accords, and I slow down my steps in a last-minute pang of guilt I receive, for the news I give him will probably shake his world once again.

“Steve,” The two soldiers turn immediately, both picking up the despair and anguish on my face, Steve faster than Peggy, “There is something you need to see.”

We end up in Peggy’s hotel room, watching the news as it alternates from live streaming the conditions in Vienna and James Buchanan Barnes’ face.

Steve doesn’t say something for a very long time, he doesn’t move and barely breaths as his eyes don't leave the screen, watching the TV expressionless. I want to assure him that Liz is all right, that she is strong and powerful, and that there is no way she wouldn’t have gotten out there herself.

But the truth is, I have no idea if she is okay or not. If there is anything that I am certain Elizabeth Stark would have done when the blast went off, is helping the people in the building. By any means possible, not thinking about her in the process.

And just when I try my best to conjure up an encouraging sentence to make Steve worry less about Liz, he surprises me (more so gives me a heart attack) when he says, “It wasn’t Bucky.”

He almost seems as if he’s in a trance, but I ask him to repeat just in case I heard that wrong, “I'm sorry. What?”

He looks at me, his eyes wild and desperate, “Bucky didn't do it. Something is wrong with him. But this, this wasn’t him. I know it.”

I can't help keep the sarcasm out of my voice, “Okay Steve, but maybe we should call the team, specifically your girlfriend, the women you love A.K.A Elizabeth Stark who was in the building in Vienna, maybe.”

If possible, his eyes turn more anguished and wild; this time accompanied by a heavy load of fear, “Shit! Liz!”

Captain America swearing. Tony would have a field day with that.

He looks at me with complete seriousness, as if his next suggestion isn’t as ridiculous as Tony Stark unable to figure out a math equation.

“We need to go to Vienna.”

I’m a damn good friend.

An hour later, after getting on Liz’s private jet, and renting a car without being noticed or recognized (how I don't know. Steve’s disguise really sucks.), we arrive at the scene of crime, immediately noticing an array of FBI agents, CIA, and I'm pretty sure half of the Russian and Italian Mob.

Steve ushers me into a small little coffee shop, far enough from the buildings in Vienna so that we won’t be caught by anyone that wanders, but close enough for Steve to hide behind a pillar (which, by some miracle isn’t collapsed) and call Liz.

He handed me a pair of comms right before he left, and now I can hear everything he is hearing, mostly hear what he’s hearing, and see what he’s seeing from the perspective I have from my view over here at the counter.

Liz picks up on the first ring, “Hey,”

I see Steve deflate, some of the tension leaving his body especially since neither of us can actually see the women herself, “Are you okay? I heard about the bomb.”

I spot Natasha, sitting on a bench. Liz isn’t there with her, but the man whom I recognize as T’Challa, prince of Wakanda, is with her, talking to her. Nat seems fairly unharmed, but I'm not surprised since the woman has quite literally handled everything, from an evil alien God attack, the fall of a super-secret agency, and a robot invasion.

I continue listening to Liz and Steve’s conversation all the while keeping an eye out for the women who currently speaking, “I'm fine Steve. Not a single scratch. Managed to get down before the bomb can hit. Thanks to T’Challa of course. Besides, the bomb only really affected the front part of the room and I was halfway out for a bathroom break so...”

Steve has his gaze lowered to the ground, meaning he can't see when Liz finally emerges in our line of sight. She wasn’t lying. From here, no scars or scratches are visible, but her dress definitely looks like it has seen better days, and her hairdresser would freak if she saw Liz’s hair, all covered in soot (somehow still perfectly curled).

“Steve,” I whisper into my headpiece, hoping that he can hear me but Liz can't, but my attempts are futile because while he looks up and sees her, she hears my voice.

“Is that Sam?” She asks, and even though I can't see it, I'm sure her brows are scrunched up in confusion.

Steve covers pretty quickly, “Ya, he’s with me in London. Gave me a suit and arranged for transportation and all.”

Rule Number One of Dating Someone: Do not lie to him or her unless you’re planning a surprise dinner or are planning to propose.

Warning Sign Number One of Dating: When lying to your significant other is as easy as breathing.

Liz nods, “Ya, ya. That’s good. Make sure you buy him some fancy dinner before you guys leave alright. Like a really fancy dinner. Unless of course, he doesn’t like fancy dinners, because not everyone needs to like fancy dinners. Actually, sometimes-fancy diners can be too fancy. They’re so proper and prestigious, you feel so scared to cough, and sneeze because you think is going to be frowned on. It's probably frowned on. Like the waitress or waiter probably goes back into the kitchen and they probably gossip on how you sneezed at the super fancy restaurant and how it sounds like a duck and how it was the first sneeze they heard in the restaurant in ten years and...”

“Liz!” Steve cuts her off and I notice with a wide grin at how some people stop and turn to look in her direction at her fast-paced rant and hand gestures.

There is silence on the line for a few, long seconds before Liz blurts out and acknowledges the giant grey elephant flying in the sky, “They say Bucky did it!”

She fires off before Steve can say anything more,

“And I know that he’s your friend and that he saved you during the whole SHIELD collapsing fiasco. And I get it. I really do. But Steve, you need to stay home. These people, they think that he did it. And they’re going to come after him. They’ll bring him into God knows where, and we can all meet up there and figure something out. Between you, me, and Tony you know we’ll figure something.”

“Liz...” I don't know what Steve was going to say. I don't know what he can say at this moment without giving anything away. But thankfully, Liz isn’t done talking.

“If you interfere, Steve, it’ll end up with the two of you getting arrested, and that is the last thing that will help Bucky. So if you really want to help him, stay home and don't go after him.”

It's almost comical at the way these two know each other; they know so much, yet almost nothing at all.

“Liz...” it's the only thing he’s able to say, and I really hope she’s getting through to him. This is a stupid and ridiculous idea and quite frankly, I'm not sure how dangerous it really will be. I'm not sure how sane Mr. Barnes is.

“Promise me, Steve. Promise me you’re going to stay home.”

Rule Number Two of Dating Someone: Do not make promises you can't keep.

Warning Sign Number Two of Dating: When your significant other makes empty promises as if it's blowing a birthday candle.

We receive information from Sharon Carter, a biological niece of Peggy Carter (who Peggy doesn’t see as much as the Starks do) and a former SHIELD agent who may harbor a tiny crush on Captain America. Something the man himself knows and might be taking slight advantage of in order to get information on Bucky.

And after that, I find myself on top of the roof, keeping watch for Steve as he breaks into a potentially psychotic super soldier’s house, trying to get to him before 200 countries do.

Damn, I'm a good friend.

** Liz  **

I toe off my heels as soon as everyone leaves the moderately sized office room they have specifically assigned me to so that I can make the necessary health arrangements in peace and quiet.

The allowance of privacy also gives me a moment to steady my breathing and attempt to partially recover from almost being blown up into pieces.

It's been a whirlwind of a day for all of us; getting the Accords, trying to sign it publically, getting blown up, the bomber being my boyfriend’s best friend, Tony and Nat going to Berlin to fix the whole Bucky mess and me staying behind to fix up the Vienna mess.

Speaking of;

“Friday, can you please get Ms. McCoy on the line for me?”

My trusty assistant responds immediately, “Right away Ms. Stark.”

Charlie’s worried voice fills the room immediately, “I've been trying to get a hold of you for the past hour. What happened? Are you okay?”

I sigh, opting for honesty, “No. No, not really. But that’s beside the point. Right now, I need you to get the medical team to Vienna ASAP and have them bring in a shitload of supplies. And see if we can get some helicopters to bring some patients to one of our hospitals near here. Can you believe we don't have one in Vienna?”

I hear the clacking of keys on the other side, and Charlie lists all the things she’s efficiently done in the last minute, “Five of our best medical teams on board the company jets coming to you, each one of them stocked to the brim with supplies, three helicopters to patients and we can also use the two remaining company jets, and a list of potential lands to build a Stark Med Care in Vienna.”

If I could promote her to anything higher than CEO, I damn well would!

“Charlie, have I mentioned how much I love you?”

She giggles over the line, “Ya, this morning when I brought you a muffin that my nana baked.”

I feel some of the tension ease out of me as I talk to my best friend, “Right, I love your nana much better.”

We both giggle slightly, but before we can talk any longer, I hear someone call Charlie in the background. Probably thinking, I didn't hear it, Charlie hesitates. We haven’t had a proper conversation in so long ever since she came back from her Aruba vacation with her green-eyed Adonis, Matthew because of everything going on with the Avengers, and the hospital and Tony and Pepper.

I guess we’re just going to have to wait a little longer, “Go Charlie. I have so much work to do here anyway.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon. Be safe!”

And with a click, the line goes dead, and I look distastefully at the stack of paperwork that awaits me, both Avengers and Stark Med concerned.

I’m only hallway though reading and signing the fourth one when Friday comes onto the line,

“Ms. Stark, it seems as though Ms. Potts has been trying to call you from your personal phone, but it might have had a slight fracture during the bomb.”

Slight might be putting it way too lightly. I make a mental reminder to get myself a new phone.

My head lolls back in my chair and my voice sounds weak even to my own ears, “Call her back Friday.”

Once again, I don't even have to wait for the ring, Pepper answers the phone so quickly, I suspect that she must be waiting in front of it, chewing on her nails as she usually does when she particularly nervous.

“God, Liz. I heard about the bomb. What happened? Is Tony okay?”

I continue to look at the ceiling, the events of the day finally catching up, making it harder to process the words accurately, which probably won’t help with Pep’s inner turmoil, “The whole building blew up. Some of us were lucky. Tony’s fine. Is he not answering his phone? I'm sure it wasn’t damaged during the blast.”

Pepper stutters, “No...no...I...um...I actually didn't call him. Yet.”

More like never. For two people who decided to take a short, healthy break, they were treating it as if it were anything but, with Pepper leaving to a different continent, and Tony burying himself with work and the two of them severing any sort of direct communication unless it was for the press.

I decide that this isn’t the correct time to discuss the fact that they’ve attempted to stay away from each other and only ended up getting more sad and miserable, “Oh. Well, he’s fine. Not even a scratch. He’s on his way to Berlin actually. With Nat. It's about the bombing and the guy, and all that crap I don't even want to think about.”

The line on the other side goes quiet for a moment as if she were nodding, before Pepper talks to me in that soft voice of hers that always allows me to relax and close my eyes for a bit which certainly doesn’t help me at the moment, “Liz, you sound like the dead. Get some sleep.”

I scoff, “You of all people know how much work damage control is. I can't sleep even if I wanted to. And believe me, I so want to.”

“Send me everything. I have nothing to do here anyway. I just finished the merge here and decided to stay behind...to enjoy the landscape.”

And avoid Tony. Pepper Potts is a woman who is physically incapable of just sitting still and not getting any work done. Enjoy the landscape my ass!

“Ms. Stark,” Friday’s voice infiltrates the room once more, and my eyes hurt at the glow she emits,

“Yes, Friday,” I close my eyes, not ready for anything more.

“Mr. Stark is on the line. Shall I put him through?”

The question is directed towards me, but I wait for Pepper’s answer, knowing that she heard everything.

“Send me the reports and files. I’ll get them done ASAP. You talk to Tony and get some sleep.”

“Thanks, Pep.”

And as soon as the line beeps, Friday takes the silent invitation to put Tony through, and since I was so tired of getting ambushed by questions in the past half hour, I decide to have the first word this time (it childish, I know. But I’m a twenty-something-year-old women sitting in a bland office room doing paperwork instead of getting drunk with my friends at some local bar so...)

“What happened to the automatic answer? Friday actually had to put you through with my permission for once,” I say, trying and failing to add a note of playfulness.

Tony picks up on it but decides to humor me anyway, playing along, and the tone of his voice indicates that the reason for calling me are anything but good.

“Well, not everything of my phone came out unscathed. There are bits and pieces missing. Needs some tinkering. Nothing unfixable.”

Tired of beating around the bush and everything, I sigh and ask, “What is it, Tony?”

The line is silent for a very long time, I start to wonder if he’s left, or collapsed, or something, when he responds, voice heavier than before, filled with guilt and sorry, “You need to come to Berlin. It's...It’s Steve.”

                                          .................................................

Moments later, I'm on the family jet, halfway to Berlin, my dress replaced for a leather jacket and jeans and my long hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

I'm on a jet to Berlin with two goals in mind.

One: Get some sleep.

Two: Before anything, Kill Steve Rogers.

 

 

 


	4. Bucky Vs Amusement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cold. You think this is cold. My sister’s plane is landing any minute now. She’s had a crappy day and you two running off and doing the exact opposite of what she told you to do puts the cherry on top. You haven’t seen cold yet.”

** Bucky Vs Amusement  **

**Bucky**

_I deserve this._

Even though I fought my damn hardest to escape from those officers, even though I tried so hard to hide away, a big part of me knows that I deserve this. I deserve this and so much more.

So really, this is all Steve’s fault.

I don't regret saving him that day, I’ll never regret saving him. But the price of saving Steve involved him becoming fixated on finding me, fixated on saving me, and I, I am beyond saving.

And if Steve wasn’t in the room with me, if he had safely been in the stupid Avenger’s Tower like he was supposed to, then I would have willingly handed myself over to the government. I would have willingly been ready to undergo the punishment they wanted to give me, a small price to pay considering everyone I had hurt, all the lives I have taken, the more lives I ruined. 

Hydra took everything I had and threw it into the flames, making me watch as my pride, my conscience, my freedom and my heart burned into shards until there was nothing left but the ashes.

And even after they were gone. Even after Hydra was exposed and ruined, their hold on me didn't diminish.

And now, the invisible hold that they have on me, they have on Steve too. Because he came to get me, he tried to protect me, and by doing so, he became the enemy.

He should have stayed. If he had, then I would have gone with the agents without a protest, without a flinch. The only reason why I fought back was because he was there with me, and he being there would have entailed him being arrested, as he is now. In the end, my attempts to save him and protect him went awry, because he was trying to help me escape from not only the Berlin agents, but also the weird Cat guy, who turned out to be the now King of Wakanda, son of the former King, the man I'm accused of killing along with several others.

And while I do deserve this punishment, I can't help but glare at the man in front of me, sitting in a suit so recognizable, but yet so different. The hawk guy sits beside him and some part of me, the part under all this anger and self-loathing, is glad that Steve has someone by his side, someone who will try to stop him from doing something elusively stupid, but helping him regardless. Someone that I used to be.

T’Challa is on the other side of Steve, his eyes never leaving mine, the promise of vengeance and death in them. And I want to tell him that I didn't do it. I want to tell him that I wasn’t the one who bombed that building, I wasn’t the one that killed his father, that I if I am ever put in a position where I kill again, then I'm not sure I could live with myself. I'm not sure I should live anymore.

But I can't say a word. Not when there are agents suffocating me, along with the burning pain of the restraints put on my wrist and the tightly woven harness on my mouth that is preventing me from speaking.

The glass wall that separates me from Steve prevents me from hearing them speak, but they are, Sam and Steve towards T’Challa, who, despite answering their question (presumably) doesn’t take his eyes off me. I have to admit that I'm scared that his claws might emerge and he will fling himself at me any minute, choking the life out of me. The life I don't deserve to live anymore.

Minutes later, my glass cage is wheeled into a small room, dark and dingy, seemingly devoid of any caretaking for the past decade. But the doors that are keeping me in are high-tech and impossible to breach through, and the walls in front of me a littered with a series of monitors, the biggest one in the middle, showing me a good view of the room where everyone is gathered in, including Steve, Sam, T’Challa, Natasha Romanoff, and Tony Stark, Howard’s son.

_Howard._

Seems that the soundproof system on my glass cage is disabled and that Berlin didn't account for or know that along with enhanced strength and instinct, I also possess enhanced sight and hearing, allowing me to see every movement made on the screen as well as hear everything said through the tiny speakers.

“I'm not getting that Shield back am I?” I see Stevie asking Tony Stark, but Natasha Romanoff answers for him,

“Technically, it's government’s property. Wings too.” She says, and I can't stop the mental ‘told you so’ that crosses my mind. This is exactly what I feared would happen if Steve helped. He would ruin his own life.

“Cold,” Sam Wilson says, but despite everything, I see no animosity between the four Avengers, and I know that their bond isn’t as easily breakable, not even through this. It's the one thing I'm glad Steve has found in this new world.

Sam’s statement has both Stark and Romanoff stopping in their tracks, the former raising an eyebrow knowingly, addressing not only Steve and Sam, but also T’Challa, “Cold. You think this is cold. My sister’s plane is landing any minute now. She’s had a crappy day and you two running off and doing the exact opposite of what she told you to do puts the cherry on top. You haven’t seen cold yet.”

And for the first time since forever, I feel a laugh bubbling up my throat at the absolute fear portrayed on both Steve and Sam’s face, as they immediately look at each other the way two boys who broke their mother’s favorite vase would do. I would have laughed if not for my slight concern, because I never had time to watch the news, and so I don't know Elizabeth Stark at all, apart from who she is and how she looks, and I wonder if she’s dangerous or something.

“Oh Shit,” Sam mutters under his breath, but not so quietly that I can't hear.

I understand the statement only moments later when the women herself comes marching into the room, commanding the attention of everyone in there, despite her paying no attention to anyone but the two guilty children standing in the back.

Tony, Natasha, and Everett Ross remerge into the room and everyone watches as Liz’s marches straight up to Steve and hisses, “What were you thinking?”

I see Steve visibly gulp before meeting her eyes and telling her, “Liz, he’s my friend and you know...”

Considering that she was in the building that got bombed, probably had to provide aid for all those who died and were injured, and is now dealing with a runaway teammate, it seems appropriate for this moment for her to lose the one strand of control she has.

And when she does, I understand the reason for the terrified faces of both Steve and Sam when Tony warned them of Liz’s arrival.

Because she, in a voice so loud even I, who is at least a mile away, have to cringe slightly, yells, “Know What Steve! Apparently, I Don't Know A Single Thing! I Don't Know Why _You_ Decided To Put On Your Stupid Suit And Go After Barnes When I Clearly Told You That You’ll Just Make Things Worse! You Did!”

She turns to Sam, “And I Don't Know Why You, Who Is Supposed To Prevent Him From Doing Stupid Shit Like That, Nodded Your Head Like Some Bobble Head And Went Along With His Ridiculous Plan And Then Decided To Fight Up A Bunch Of Government Agents!” He voice neither loses volume or the fire as she continues to berate everyone.

She points at T’Challa who, for the first time, looks anything but stone cold, “And You! I, For The Life Of Me, Do Not Know Why You Went After And Tried To Murder Someone Dressed Up As A Fucking Cat And Then Participated In Some Stupid Car Chase That Injured Several People!” T’Challa cowers.

She looks around the room until her eyes spot where I know the live stream of me is kept in place and I wonder what she is going to say about me.

What surprises me is that her words of anger (still loud and scary as hell) are not directed at me but Ross, “And For Goodness Sakes! He’s A Human Being People! Who The Hell Restrained Him And Caged Him Up Like Some Kind Of Animal?”

The room goes silent, and no one says a word, looking at each other in fear. She throws her hands up in the air and yells, “Impossible!”

She makes her way to the doors that lead to my room, ignoring everyone, even when Ross calls out to her, “Ms. Stark, I would advise against that.”

She, without turning around, calls out, “If He Knows What Is Best For Him, He Won’t Try A Goddamn Thing.”

And it's because she leaves that she doesn’t hear T’Challa whispering to Steve under his breath, his eyes wide comically, “No one remembered to mention to me that Ms. Stark is very scary when angry.”

Very Scary Indeed. And now she’s coming to me.

**Liz**

As I walk down the halls that become more deserted as I go, I take moment to control the anger and fear I felt as Tony explained to me what was going on in Berlin. He didn't say anything until I was safely in a car heading towards the task force building that he explained the whole Bucky, Steve mishap and by the time I was on the fifteenth floor, I was feeling angrier that I have ever felt before.

So I yelled. And I do (sort of, kind of,) regret it (not really. I’ve forgotten how much a good yelling helped).  

And now as I walk into the room that holds my boyfriend’s best friend, who is a mass murderer but not a mass murderer by choice according to Steve and is accused of bombing a building but didn't do it according to Steve, the only thing I can think of at this moment is how stupid this idea was since I don't know him and he doesn’t know me but since I dramatically exited the main room, I can't go back know.

I stop in front of the two guards stationed at the large metal doors, trying to seem thoroughly unimpressed even though I'm quivering on the inside, “The doors, please,”

Without a word, they solemnly open the doors to a room that has definitely seen better days, and I hate myself for jumping in shock when the metal doors close with a loud bam that resonates through the small, quiet room.

I regrettably freeze when I spot James Barnes, staring vividly at me through his glass cage. The only source of light in the room hangs above him, in the form of a poorly lit light bulb. A small desk is placed in front of the cage, presumably where the psychiatrist is expected to be seated.

Barnes’ gaze never wavers and while it is slightly eerie, it allows me to get a better read on him, allows me to see that he is just as, maybe even more terrified than I am. The knowledge gives me some comfort, and the ability to regard him as the man Steve described rather than the man on the news.

I walk up to the reasonably sized desk and, instead of sitting on the chair, I climb on to the desk itself, crossing my legs and meeting the gaze of the man in front of me eye to eye.

“Um...Hello,” I feel a ghost of a smile on my lips, and flinch when I awkwardly wave at him.

He doesn’t say a word, just stares back impassively, and I mentally berate myself for even considering this idea. He doesn’t even know me. Why the hell would he talk to me?

We sit in silence for a long minute before I catch his gaze flick to the top right corner of the room, where I know one of the many cameras is installed. The gesture gives me the opportunity to speak and try to clear the air.

“They won’t see anything. I sort, might have hacked the monitors so that it would just display me sitting down in silence and you staring creepily at me in silence, which isn’t really that far from the truth because your still staring at me in silence but I'm talking, and now rambling, and I really want to stop but I can't, I'm pretty sure it's a disease or something but anyway, I thought that maybe you’d like some privacy before someone walks in and prods your brain. Not literally.” I clear my throat in an attempt to stop myself, and I wonder if I scared him or angered him for good.

But then he speaks, so quietly that I have to strain my ear to hear it, but I do, “What are you doing here?”

I hear the silent question in his voice and I hastily rush to explain,

“I just thought that it would do you some good to talk to someone without the government spying on you, but then I realized what a stupid idea that was since you have no idea who I am and I would have sent Steve, but you know, he’s kind of in trouble and there is no way they’ll let him go anywhere near you and I'm...sort of...mad at him. So...” I awkwardly trail off and try not to fist punch the air when I see him try and fight a genuine smile as he quietly whispers thanks.

This should have been the part where I said you’re welcome and steered the conversation towards more light topics, like the weather and not bombs, but I realized that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“So you’re Bucky Barnes?” It's a question, but he surprises me when he shakes his head after a moment.

“But you’re not the Winter Soldier.” It's a statement, and he flinches visibly when the name comes up, but he gives me a definite shake of his head, indicating a hard no.

“The things that the Winter Soldier did...it wasn’t me.”

I feel frustration start to well up, my patience has been toyed with for the past few hours and I wonder how much of it I have left, “So...so what? Were you threatened? Did they have something on you? How...how did they make you...you kill all those people. I don't get it.”

He stays silent, not saying a word but not losing eye contact, and I sigh in resignation. I'm getting nowhere with him.

“Look, I can lie to you and tell you that I'm doing this because my mother raised me teaching me to see the good in everyone. But I'm not. It's kind of hard to see goodness everywhere when you do what I do. I'm doing this because your Steve’s friend and he really cares about you. He doesn’t think you’re a cold-blooded murderer and I just really want him to be right because it would crush him if it turned out otherwise. So I really, really need you to work with me.” I show all my cards, hoping that integrity would help him trust me just a little more.

And just when I see the flicker of understanding and determination, the doors open once more and I resist the urge to trap the short, lean man that just walked into the room in a block of ice, but it doesn’t stop me from glaring at him.

He looks surprised to see me, and I can't seem to shake off this terrible feeling about this guy, my instincts tell me that there is something wrong, that something is going to go wrong.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” He tells me in a thickly coated Russian accent.

Taking note of Bucky’s fearful expression at the thought of being alone with this creep, I tilt my head in challenge and defiance, “Oh really, do you want to be the one that makes me leave?”

His eyes widen of their own accord, and I try to get my eyes to stop flashing blue and purple ( I have no control over it), “I don't think I could.”

I nod, and move to the back of the room, where the doors are and lean against the cold metal, “You think right. I won’t make a sound, I promise. Just do what you’re supposed to do and pretend I'm not there.” I say simply, giving him no room to argue.

And then, only a few minutes later, the lights go off, and I can't see anything. My phone lights up from a text from Tony and I swipe the screen to read it,

 **T:** HOW FAR ARE YOU FROM THE CONTROL ROOM?

Thinking back to the elevator where the map of this place was mounted, I quickly type up a response,

 **L:** I’M CLOSE. ON MY WAY.

 **T:** MEET YOU THERE

And despite my better judgment, I knock on the doors, and they open, and I walk out, meeting with Tony in the main room, and before the two of us can even walk towards the control room, a voice overhead reports that the Winter Soldier has escaped from his cage.

Tony and I run to where screams and glass shattering is heard and Natasha catches up with us.

“Tony, you don't have your suit, I warn him, and Nat and Sharon walk away while the two of us stand still amongst the chaos.

“I don't need the suit to fight.” He tells me, and I know there is nothing I can say to prevent him from going in the line of fire.

“Just be careful,” I tell him before I can run to the direction where Nat went.

I get to them just before Bucky can knock out one of the officers who tried shooting him, and I protect the officer with a wall of ice that causes the Winter Soldier’s attention to focus on me.

He runs towards me and I dodge his punches with difficulty, barely managing to get in any of my own, the ones I do not even make a mark.

Making a baton with ice, I run after him, my weapon making is easier to deflate his punches. Natasha jumps up from behind and I look around the room for Tony, finding him behind a pillar, armour on his hand. I run towards him and before I can get a word in, he grabs my arm.

“Find Steve. He went after Barnes and we both know what happened last time there was a fight.”

I flinch, remembering the phone call I got from Nat telling me Steve was hospitalized and seeing him hooked up to several monitors, beaten to a pulp.

And then I find myself blindly running in the direction of where Barnes was held, knowing that Steve would have gone there in an attempt to...I don't know what he was thinking running there.

I get there in time to see Steve hoisting himself up an elevator shaft, and I sigh in relief when I see no visible scars on him.

He spots me, and I crash into him, whispering into his chest, “Thank God,”

It's only when I hear heavy footsteps, that I remember that we were in the middle of some war, and we both silently run after the footsteps, but stop when we see Bucky metal arm flash through the top level and Steve groans,

“He’s going to the helipad. We can't get there in time,”

I can’t prevent my smirk, “You can't, but I can.”

The wave of water the sweeps us off our feet catches him by surprise and then we’re speeding through floors, and crashing into Barnes, whose yet to reach the door that provides him with escape.

“Bucky,” Steve calls out to him, and I stay in my place, my senses on alert, trying to see the recognition that flashes through his face.

Barnes...The Winter Solider dives for Steve, and before he can punch him in the face, a wall of ice blocks him, and I watch in horrid fascination as the ice cracks slightly knowing that the only type of metal that can do that kind of damage to my ice is vibranium.

Unfortunately, my protecting of Steve focused Barnes’ attention onto me, and I mentally gift myself a free spa day as I, once again, dodge his attacks, his fighting pattern becoming easier and easier to read. Steve wraps an arm around his neck and I summon a ball of electricity that hits his abdomen that sends both men flying to the ground, and only one is rescued from hitting the pavement through a wave.

It places Steve beside me, and before Bucky can get up and say, “Pickles,” I have a thin wall of ice surrounding him, and I see him punch at it, slowly cracking it.

My mind instantly returns to Tony and the others, whom I just abandoned and Steve, as always, reads me well.

“Go, I’ll take care of this.”

I'm about to protest, but he cups my face and kisses me, long and hard and I close my eyes in an attempt to savour the small amount of peace I'm trying to keep.

“Promise me you’ll stay. Promise.” I hear the desperation in my voice, but at the moment, I don't really care because I'm summoning everything I have inside of me to try and trust this man to not let me down again.

Our foreheads touch as he whispers, “Promise,”

And then I'm running to Tony. I'm helping people back up and sending them to the private health facility in the building.

And then I'm breaking apart in the bathroom.

Because Steve broke his promise. Again.

** Tony  **

 I watch her through the glass window, preparing a needle and composing herself at the same time.

She turns around and for the first time, I notice that she’s tending Sharon, our ‘ _cousin’ (_ not really) whom we barely saw because her mom wanted her kids as far away as possible from everything ‘SHIELD’ (the irony of this situation never ceases to be funny). But I do remember watching Disney movies with both Liz and Sharon, taking them to carnivals and fairs and sneaking them out of the house for ice cream. Despite the distance and the rare occurrences of seeing each other, Lizzie and Share always managed to pick up right where they let off.

This time, the two of them are silent, and as I see the clench in Liz’s jaw as she works meticulously on the cut on Share’s cheek, I can't help but hate Rogers for disappearing again.

I understand why he did it. I’d break a gazillion promises for Liz, again and again without any hesitation or regrets. And I get why he felt like he needed to run off with Bucky. But right now, at this moment, I can't help but hate him for not choosing my sister over his friend. And God, I know that’s a horrible thing to think, it's unfair of me to put him in a position like that, but I've never seen Liz so broken and I just want her to be happy.

I just want this nightmare to be gone. And I don't know how to fix it.

The door opens and Liz walks out, and I pull her into my arms, giving her a moment to break, because I know she needs one before she’s forced to try and fix this mess as well.

She pulls back, wiping her tears and saying, “We need to find them. Something’s wrong with Barnes.”

I roll my eyes, “No shit, Sherlock. Obviously.”

She smacks my arm and I hold back the gust of pain that accompanies it, “No, you dumbass, I don't think he has control over himself. Something happens so that he can't control what he’s doing.”

I nod, not wanting to tell her that I've already suspected this a long time ago. She nods back and I hear the click of her heels as she walks away and the door opens once more to Sharon.

She’s been helping Cap this entire time, and I honestly don't know what to say.

She does apparently, “I'm doing what I think is right Tony.”

I sigh, “I know. I just don't want anyone getting hurt Share, I don't know what to do here.”

She smiles encouragingly, placing a hand on my shoulder, “You’re Tony Stark. You’ll find a way.”

I smile at her, hoping for all our sakes that she’s right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Steve Vs The Promise

**Steve**

Silence.

It's always been something I used to run from. Something I hated, because it reminded me of a time when all I could hear was silence; when the piece of my conscious that was alive in the ice, heard nothing but silence.

I've grown to hate that particular sound, not only because it makes me shiver and feel like I'm freezing, but because it reminds of a time when I was helpless to do anything but wait for someone to come and save me.

Silence, was the one thing I have grown to hate, the one thing that I have never felt comfortable in.

But right now, sitting on the floor of a dingy warehouse, Bucky beside me, and the silence encompassing us, I feel okay. Silence with Bucky was always comfortable; it was always peaceful and soothing. Silence with Bucky can never be tarnished.

He breaks the silence first, as he always does, as he always did, "She's nice,"

I look at him, genuinely confused, "Sam's a man,"

He chokes out something that could potentially pass off as laughter, but it's so unlike the Bucky that I once knew, who never stopped smiling or laughing, that I can't laugh along with him,

"No, Elizabeth Stark. She's nice."

At her name, I freeze.

_"Promise me,"_

Oblivious to my reaction, Bucky continues, "After you, she was the first person that looked at me like a human being, not a Hydra weapon."

_"I promise,"_

She was so vulnerable. I hurt her the first time when I went after Bucky without telling her, behind all that anger I saw hurt and fear, the fear of losing someone else and the hurt of my breaking my promise. Then she begged me to stay, desperation swallowing her whole and I promised again. It physically hurts me to think about what she might think. How she must feel right now.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

"Steve," I'm jolted back to reality at the sound of Bucky's voice calling me.

"Huh, what were you saying?"

He raises an eyebrow, "We were talking about Elizabeth. How nice she is."

I lean my head back on the cold metal of the boulder behind me, allowing myself to finally feel since I saved Bucky from drowning, "Ya. She's...

_Perfect_

...amazing," 

‘Amazing' doesn't even cut it. I could be given hours and hours trying to describe her and it still wouldn't be enough.

"Does she know?" Buck asks me hesitantly, and even if his voice wasn't plagued with guilt, there is only one thing about Bucky that Liz doesn't know.

Her parents.

"No," I answer, and for the sake of her and her sanity, I hope that she never finds out. It's going to crush her.

"You shouldn't have done this," Bucky says, in that tone of his that isn't quite disappointment, but not resignation either.

I look at him questioningly, and tilt my head, because his cryptic, short sentences are starting to confuse me.

He elaborates, "The life you had. The life you had as Captain America, it was good, but it was nothing compared to the life you have now. Steve, you make a mark on this world, far more prominent than many people do in power. You have yourself a group of people that would do anything for you. You can't just give that up."

He tells me as if I don't know all of this myself. As if I don't lie awake every single night or blank out during game night, asking myself how the hell I got so lucky to share every single day with such amazing people, share a life with such an amazing woman.

"What do you want me to do Buck?" I ask him with resignation. Because I really don't know anymore. I don't know how to keep fighting for a cause I believe in without the people I learned to associate with family.

"Sign the Accords. Let me be held accountable for everything I've done. Leave me be, and continue making your mark on the world."

His words break another dam of memories. Memories I've been trying to hold back to spare me from the pain it brought.

"Do you remember when we were twelve, and I stole that medication for my mom." I catch him by surprise for a moment.

He doesn't say anything, but I see the recognition in his eyes so I continue, "I got caught, but the man didn't see my face, just blindly ran after me. You emptied the bottle, handed me some of the pills, and then ran in the opposite direction, waving the bottle in the air. You got caught and were beaten for it."

He chuckles, "Your mother made me a mean chicken broth after. And she gave me the bigger slice of pie."

This time, I chuckle with him, telling him truthfully, "You're my best friend Buck. You've protected me for as long as I can remember. It's time I return the favor."

He's never given up on me. He followed me blindly during every mission, made it his own responsibility to protect me from everything, even myself sometimes. Giving up on him is like giving up on a piece of myself, and I've lost enough pieces in the last fifty years, it's time I start building myself up back together, starting with the things that matter.

The rumbling of a car causes us to freeze, and on the rare occasion it isn't Sam, who was supposed to bring us some food, I grab onto my wrench.

I sigh in relief and hear Bucky do the same when Sam appears from the shadows, hands raised in the air, a brown bag on the other hand.

"Just me, bringing some food,"

And despite the fact that I'm sitting in a broken down warehouse, eating poorly cooked hamburgers, I feel a surge of confidence, looking at my two friends, the two people who have yet to let me down.

I'm going to be okay.

**Natasha**

"Remind me once again why we're going after catman?" Liz questions me and I sigh and look out the glass panes of the elevator.

"You've seen him fight. If push comes to shove, he'll prove to be a useful member of the team." I explain.

I sense her turn towards me, "My point exactly. He a personal vendetta against Barnes and the last thing we need is us playing tug of war with T'Challa and Barnes. And besides, the whole point of this is making sure that push doesn't come to shove."

I shrug my shoulders in defeat, knowing that she's right. But even then, the two of us still make our way downstairs to where we know T'Challa and his executives are, because we know Steve better than most, and we know that there is a better chance of shit hitting the fan than not.

I pause midway, causing her to mirror my actions, "Oh, and don't call him catman, its Blank Panther and he's really skittish on the subject."

She salutes and we share a smile, before I double take on the number of people in the underground parking. Liz and I look at each other and mentally prepare ourselves to face the outcomes of this particular choice, whether it turns out to be good or bad.

"I'm following your lead," Liz mutters beside me, and we both stand beside each other, in front of the long line of cars waiting patiently for his majesty to make an appearance.

I look up when I hear his voice, but he's followed by a woman, hard and tough on the exterior, glaring openly at me, and I feel so bad for her if she decides to make any provoking comments after the shit day Liz has had.

She does exactly that, "Move or you will be moved," she threateningly says, expecting a reaction of cowardice.

Liz scoffs loudly beside me, and it takes everything in me to keep my face solemn as she retorts back to the woman in front of us, "It won't end well for you, so..."

Before anything can erupt, T'Challa interrupts, "As fun as that would be to watch, Ms. Stark is correct. I'll handle this from now on."

We discuss Barnes, I feel the tension radiating out of Liz, and T'Challa senses it as well.

"Something the matter Ms. Stark?"

She smiles bitterly at him, but I know that there is no genuine malice between them "Is it a surprise when I tell you that I'm not overly fond of discussing how to find someone so that you can murder him?"

Our own car pulls up in the driveway just as T'Challa answers her, "He's a monster. He's killed so many people."

Her heels echo throughout the paved ground, as she gets into the driver's seat of the car, "It doesn't mean he's not a human being. No one deserves to die. And even then, it's not your call to make."

Without another word (not that there is anything left to say after that remark,) I follow Liz into the car, T'Challa's contact stored on my phone.

"What happened to I will follow you?"

She smiles at me, riving the engine, "I have trouble taking orders. Runs in the family."

It reminds me, "Speaking of family, have you heard from your brother yet?"

She shakes her head, and the car makes a stop at the light, "Nope. It would have helped to know where he was going and what he was planning to do. That way I don't have worry about him and whatever stupid plan he's thinking of, and I can try to put a stop to the plan if it's too farfetched. And considering that his tracker and Jarvis isn't with him, I'm going to assume that this is the type of plan that I would disapprove of on a good day."

The light flashes green, and we speed towards the safe house Wanda and Pietro was put in, slowly starting to distance ourselves from the city.

She's my best friend. She is the person I'm most close to along with Clint. I've told her things I've never told anyone else, and with her, I've allowed my walls to tumble down and I allow myself to become human, just another person in this city.

It's why I blurt, "Tony almost got Steve to sign."

The car is bathed in a silence, not comfortable like the previous one, but rather anticipating. After a long moment, Liz answers,

"I'm glad he didn't," At my bewildered disbelief she continues, "I wouldn't want him to sign the goddamn thing without actually wanting to sign and then regretting it five, ten years down in the future. Then it'll just be a repeat of this, but much worse."

She blinks rapidly, and for the first time, I see how much this is affecting her; choosing between her brother and the man she loves, and getting hurt despite the choice.

"I'm sorry," I don't elaborate, but she understands my intentions, and she gives me a small grin.

"It sucks, Nat. When I support Steve it's as if I'm hurting Tony and when I help Tony I'm hurting Steve. I don't know what to do," Her fingers are gripping the wheel so tightly; her knuckles are turning a pale shade of white.

"How about you? Don't sit here and tell me that you're not hurting either. Especially with your boyfriend running away not once, but two times already," I'm not the sentimental type of person, I know what I want to say, and I don't beat around the bush to say it.

Liz scoffs, "My _boyfriend_ and I really need to have a seat and talk, because our relationship is already crumbling down to pieces, and unless we do something to fix it, there's going to be nothing left to save."

I nod before resuming my look out the window. I love both of them; they're my team, my partners. But I know that Liz isn't the type of person to lay down while someone walks all over her, and while she loves Steve to pieces, I'm not surprised that she's not going to run back to him so easily, after he lied to her too many times to count.

We arrive at the safe house and park underground. Punching the elevator codes, we stand in silence as the machine takes us to the fifth floor, Tony's hard metal music encompassing us.

Liz gets out first and takes the words right out of my mouth,

"Holy Shit!"

The place looks perfectly fine, no broken windows, no crashed chairs or any indication of a fight. Everything except for the large hole in the ground that seems to travel several feet underground, and I cringe at the uneven splinters and gaps as I look down.

"Wanda!" Liz calls out, and as expected, there is no answer.

"Vision!" This time she calls out into the hole in the ground, and I groan as I finally put the pieces together and figure out what happened.

"She must have escaped," I state the obvious, but I can't take my eyes off the too large hole in the middle of the living room.

"But how? It was almost impossible to get out unless Vision let her. And clearly, he didn't."  She points to the hole once more, and shakes her head and sighs.

"Goodbye sleep," she murmurs and I fully understand her tone; we've been bombed, fought a supersoldier, and negotiated with a stubborn jackass we call Secretary of State and neither of us is running on any sleep.

"You check the cameras, I'll go get Vision."

I nod, thankful that she didn't suggest us taking a rope and dropping me down there, I feel like vomiting just by looking at the hole that I don't think I'll be able to go down.

After the glowing blue light that lightens the ugliness of the gap is completely gone, I drop on the floor, unable to move any further.

"Jarvis, can you show me the feed from the past hour please?"

Without a reply, the camera feed comes online, and I watch in nothing but disappointment, as Clint escorts Wanda out of the building, bow and arrow in hand.

The last thing he was supposed to do is come here. Unlike all of us, he has a family; a wife and children. He cannot, more than anyone, afford to become an international criminal after helping Cap escape with whom the government has labeled as a murderer. There's no way anyone can help him if he is caught. And if Tony doesn't have a way to find Cap in the next thirty-six hours, then what are the chances that the asshole won't get shot alive after Ross takes the wheel?

Grumbling to myself and cursing everyone in the world for my lack of sleep and rest, I make my way into the nearest room, dialing Laura in the process, hoping that I can get some information out of her, and that she can find a way to convince Clint to come back.

She couldn't.

**Nick Fury**

A loud, high shrill distributes throughout the room, and I struggle to open my eyes to locate the noise.

If this were to happen a year ago, the second before the sound would have even sprung up, I would have been out of bed and armed with 20 guns, fighting for my life.

It's kind of hard to fight for your life when everybody assumes you're dead.

Now, my primary home and shelter are inside the gigantic house on a high cliff, on the edge of Singapore, the land stretching miles and miles out, security three times tougher than Stark's.

Life here is good. It's relaxing, eating, going for a jog, then a swim, watching T.V, and repeat.

Life here is relaxing.

Except for when it's four in the morning and there's a loud, high shrill that distributes throughout the room, waking you up from your sleep thinking it's something important, only to discover that it's your phone.

Ignoring the pain in my back from taking a fall after cliff diving yesterday, I blindly reach out for the nightstand, internally cheering when my hand makes contact with the cold object and I pick it up, my recently bought Stark Phone lighter than air itself.

"Yes?" I don't bother to turn on the voice moderator on the phone as I usually do. The device I use for my daily tasks such ordering pizza, or a car, or anything really, is placed on the other side of the room where my hands won't reach.

This phone is meant for calls that connect me to Director Fury's world, the world I left behind for the greater good.

"I know we aren't like, close, or anything, but I really didn't know who to call and I'm sort of, kind of, definitely freaking out because Tony is god knows where doing god knows what, Nat and the catboy are frolicking around the country trying to find Steve who is my boyfriend who also ran away with a well-known terrorist and Vision was 100 feet into the ground and Clint ran away from a vacation to kidnap Wanda—well I guess it doesn't count as kidnap if she voluntary went but—"

I receive the most efficient wake-up call ever, because, by the second word, I'm wide awake and out the balcony door, my brain trying to find the part of me that used to be so good at following things such as Elizabeth Stark's rambles.

"Ms. Stark, I lost you after you said your brother's name. Now slow down and explain yourself,"

I may be dead and isolated from the whole world, but I keep in contact and watch the news enough to know what is going on in my previous environment. Things such as Bucky Barnes being alive, The Accords that ultimately forced the Avengers into two (still not happy about that. It took years of work, an alien attack along with a staged death to bring them together), or the fact that Steve Rogers is once again a wanted man.

"We have 36 hours to find Steve and company. Wanda and Pietro were in the safe house but apparently, Clint left in the middle of a family vacation to bust them out and bury Vision 100 feet in the ground. Tony thinks that running off to somewhere will help find Steve. Nat and the King of Wakanda are locating Barnes so that they can kill him, and I don't know what to do!" Her voice takes on a panic note of hysterics at the end as I try to process all that has happened since I was last debriefed.

"Ms. Stark, you sound like crap!"

She gurgles out what could have been passed as a laugh, "Running on less sleep than normal, and since normal sleep for me is low itself, I'm not in the best shape to do anything."

Being a director of a massive organization such as Shield taught me many things, one of them being the ability to easily and effectively read people, through the eyes, body language, and voice. And what I hear at the moment from Liz is the need to talk and be listened to by someone.

So I stay silent, allowing her a moment to sort through the hectic day she had, a day that I presume is about to get worse.

She speaks after an unusual moment of silence, "it's just...I fell as if everything is breaking and I'm not sure how to fix it. I'm not even sure I can fix it."

I nod, even though she can't see me, "I have a very good feeling you're talking about the Captain more than the situation between two teams."

"How can I keep an entire team together when I can barely do the same for my own relationship? I signed the Accords because I thought it was right, I thought it would help people. But it seems as if I just caused a permanent rift between everyone."

I sigh, "Ms. Stark, you and I both know what you and your brother are going to do with the Accords, and it'll be hard to accomplish if you're not one hundred percent committed to it." I warn her.

If you know Tony and Elizabeth Stark as well as I do, if you know the Starks (from Howard to Maria) as well as I do, then you know that independence is engraved into their skull. People like that just don't submit to a piece of paper that ties their hands together with masking tape, telling them when to save innocents and when not to. The only reason _they_ signed is so that they can take proper accountability for the damage they've done and can reduce the amount done next mission so that innocents aren't caught in the crossfire; that's it.

If she's surprised at my admittance of what I truly suspect they're trying to do; switch up the Accords so that it doesn't put the Avengers in cages, then she doesn't show it verbally, "No, I want to do this. This is the right thing to do, but the cost seems to be my relationship with Steve."

It's not expressed verbally, but I hear the silent implore through the phone, a thousand miles away,

_What do I do?_

So, I decide to change my approach, "Sometimes, we go against the things we believe in order to pursue a relationship with someone,"

"What kind of relationship is that?" She sounds incredulous, as I expected her to be, she's never been one to bend and break who she is for the sake of others.

"There's your answer, Ms. Stark," I tell her things that she already knows.

"It's not an easy one"

I take a seat on the plush sofa that was gifted to me by the women herself, "Liz, you have to do the things that you think are right. The people you love, who love you, will understand; if not immediately then eventually. Or, they're going to have to learn to suck it up and live with your choices, because at the end of the day, they're your own choices and no one but you has got to be proud of them."

She sighs, and I'm glad to hear that it sounds lighter than it did a couple of minutes ago.

"Thanks, Fury,"

I smile, "you can thank me by getting yourself a good hour of sleep Ms. Stark,"

I can almost picture her shaking her head in restrained amusement, "Once a director, always a director. You really need to stop sounding so bossy. I don't work for you anymore, actually, I never did. So..."

The line clicks off, indicating the end of the conversation and further augmenting my theory that Elizabeth Stark hates saying goodbye.

I then walk back into the large mansion, forgoing the bathroom and the kitchen (I can brush my teeth and eat breakfast later) and making my way into the room at the very end of the house, only able to unlock through a series of eye, thumb and facial recognition. Behind this door contains the remaining items and aspects that mean everything to me, and I need to ensure that it never leaves my sight, let alone this house.

The room lights up as I walk through it, bathing the space in a calming blue, the shadows reflecting my movement on every wall as I take a seat in front of my desk.

Opening the final drawer, I scan what seems to be an empty piece of metal with my distorted eye and wait as the white rock slides back, revealing a stack of papers.

And I spend the whole afternoon pent up in the small, blue room, writing, verifying and signing off whatever is left of the organization I took care of for decades, finally putting to action a decision I made when I walked into Steve Rogers' apartment in order to stage my death ( _I should have done this much sooner, it could have prevented everything_ ).

Handing SHIELD over to the only woman, the only person I know who will raise it from the ground, build it back up and successfully run it towards a path that will reflect nothing but goodness, integrity, strength, and love.

Much Like Elizabeth Stark Herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Peter Vs Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No! I'm not okay. Tony is calling his sister, and she’s going to be so pissed you're here. She’s probably going to electrocute her brother, stab me repeatedly with an icicle until I'm dead, and then blow up this entire hotel. She can do it in less than a minute.”

**Peter Vs Happy**

**Happy**

_This is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. Liz is going to be so pissed. I'm going to be so screwed. She’s going to kill me._

I take extra care on the roads as we drive through traffic, not because Tony Stark looks like crap and like he might fall apart at any given moment, but also because of the fact that there IS A FREAKING KID IN MY CAR AND I, DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!

“His name is Peter Parker, he’ll be helping us,” Was Mr. Stark’s elusive answer, and I don't think that he was ever more in danger of being strangled by me than right now.

The kid stares out the window in awe, and I try to evaluate his age; can't be more than 15, 16. I'm not an idiot (despite everyone thinking so) and I'm well informed of the feud between Captain America and Iron Man, and I know how dangerous the people fighting this war can be, and I know that if Tony is going to involve the kid, then Liz is going to give him some serious shit.

Sometimes, I feel that Tony has moments when he loses his ability to think and act rationally, and I wonder if that is a common symptom of being so smart. I also wonder why the hell I'm still here, and why I haven’t quit this job yet. A normal person wouldn’t be able to handle one Stark on their good day, and I’ve been handling two of them on terrible ones.

“Mr. Stark,” Jarvis’ voice blares through the owner’s cell phone, and I remind myself that if Jarvis was ever a human being (he was once), he would have killed the Starks himself.

“Yes J?”

“You have a call from Ms. Romanoff, shall I put her through?”

He shrugs uncaringly, but I see the curiosity in his eyes, “Why not.”

Tony is then occupied, quietly speaking into the phone to his teammate, and I'm left glaring at the Parker boy, the boy who, if he had the sense to consider the dangers of entering into a war created by the Avengers and declined Tony’s offer, could have saved me from a certain death lashing from Elizabeth Stark.

Instead, he looks at me with unordinary excited eyes, asking me, “Where are we going?”

“Wherever I decide to take you,” I grunt, vaguely allowing him a full display of my discontent.

He either doesn’t get the message, or chooses to ignore my (well-reasoned) faulty mood and continues to babble off, “Is it true that Mr. Stark owns a share in almost half of these buildings?”

“I don't care,” I scornfully tell him, my voice raised enough for Tony to press himself further back into the seat to hear Natasha.

We pull up into the five-star hotel the kid’s been booked into and I turn the car expertly into the valet parking spots, under the large, flashy sign indicating that the designated area is meant for no one but a Stark.

Even though it is Tony who uses the valet spots and the five star hotels, everything that he has belongs to his sister as well, and it also includes minuscule things such as parking lots and spots even though there has never been a day in my fifteen years of working with them that I’ve seen her use it.

“Okay, out we go,” Tony, at some point has finished his phone call to Natasha, and is now staring expectantly at the two of us.

He gets out of the car and when I do the same, he gestures towards the kid’s door, and I'm not shy to roll my eyes and allow him full display on my discomfort as I open the door. The kid jumps out of the car as if he were a dog or something and runs towards the other side, causing me to ask Tony telepathically once again,

_What that hell were you thinking?_

Tony Stark is a regular customer at the hotel and so no one bats an eye as he strolls through the front desk and into the private elevator in leisure, and I (unwillingly) appoint myself the guardian of the kid trailing him, who looks so out of place in his jeans and bomber jacket and receives a series of unamused looks from the high-class celebrities causing me to walk closer to him, sending everyone a silent message that he is with us.

When the elevators finally close, and we are hidden from the world for a moment, Parker’s words vomit out, “So...what are we doing here? I thought we were going to go to the Avengers Tower.”

Tony shakes his head, right as the doors open and I lead the way since I was the one who booked the room, “Nope, you need a place to stay for the night. This is your place to stay for the night.”

I produce a key from my pocket and click it in through the slit, opening the door to the suite, and I watch in amusement as the kid’s mouth bobs up and down like a goldfish as he takes in the enormity of the room.

“This is...this is bigger than my apartment!” He looks around in shock and before either of us can answer, he runs off through the door to where the bathroom is and I hear a shout of impressiveness and awe before he runs into the kitchen and so on and so forth.

Tony pats my shoulder, “I'm going to call Lizzie, keep an eye on him for me will ya. Can't have the kid break something _before_ the battle.”

He’s out the door before I can fall on my knees, grab onto his legs and keep him from calling Liz, because he obviously doesn’t know how much shit she’s going to give me and him, but mostly me.

“Mr. Happy?” Peter’s curious face is in my view and I can't even muster up the energy to glare (I'm too busy mentally writing my will), “Are you all right?”

I decided to vent my frustrations to the kid, who is the reason why Elizabeth is going to rip my skin off with an icicle, “No! I'm not okay. Tony is calling his sister, and she’s going to be so pissed you're here. She’s probably going to electrocute her brother, stab me repeatedly with an icicle until I'm dead, and then blow up this entire hotel. She can do it in less than a minute.”

And sure, maybe I was over-reacting the slightest of bits. Maybe I had scared the kid too much, judging by his wide eyes and pale skin. But I've had a terrible day, and somehow, scaring little children just makes me feel a little eviler, and little better (it's funny how much I understand Justin Hammer at this point).

A chime interrupts the tense atmosphere in the room, and I read the text before turning towards the visibly shaken kid, “Stay here. Liz is here, I'm going to bring her up.”

He doesn’t say a word, just nods numbly, and I find myself missing the kid’s energetic enthusiasm and lengthy responses.

I walk out and find the elevator, pressing the button that would take me towards the underground parking lot, where I know Liz prefers to park. She also prefers to drive herself, says something along the lines of freedom, control, and wind.

She smiles at me when the doors open, and even though she looks as beautiful as ever (It seems to be a family thing, the Starks never look anything but perfect), I see the redness in her eyes and sunken cheeks, indicating stress, worry and lack of sleep.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” She raises an arched eyebrow, and l look at Tony for guidance.

He shakes his head, “No he is not, because you’ll figure out yourself in a matter of time,”

His sister completely ignores him, piercing her dark eyes on me, “Happy...” she warns threateningly.

I gulp.

The other Stark on the other side of me hisses in my ear, “Don't you dare Happs,”

I feel perspiration coat my forehead.

Then, I'm quite literally saved by the bell, when the elevator chimes open and Tony pulls his sister out of it, dragging her across the halls in front of room 658, where a probably scared out of his mind Peter Parkers stands.

She flings the door open and I can expect her look of shock and confusion as she freezes in her spot to stare at the awkward fifteen-year-old.

“Is that your son?” She whispers into her brother’s ear, and I laugh because considering Tony, it is truly the most possible probability. 

Tony shakes his head vigorously, but Peter answers her question, “H—hi Ms. Stark. I'm...my name is Peter Parker, and Mr. Stark, your brother, he came to my home in Queen and took me here.” He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, but then comes off sounding worse, “He didn't kidnap me or anything! I came here voluntarily, to help. Help you and Mr. Stark fight Captain America and his team.”

For the first time, I see Elizabeth Stark speechless, unable to say anything (good, let her get a taste of her own medicine. This is how we feel after she’s had a particularly long ramble, just worse), just staring at the young boy who is now nervously shifting from one foot to another.

She takes a deep breath and Tony and I simultaneously stare at each other, as we watch Liz hold onto the last remnants of her patience to smile sweetly (from where he is standing, Peter probably can't see the fury on her face) at Peter,

“Will you excuse the three of us for a moment, Peter?”

He nods, and I see relief in his face at the prospect of the hotel not burning to flames and his idol very much alive and not electrocuted.

She fists both our jackets, and yanks us into the hallway, somehow finding a way to shut the door with both her hands occupied.

“What were you thinking?” She screams, her voice echoing through the long and complex halls.

I note, with incredible relief that her murderous glare in pinned on Tony, and I hastily look around at my surroundings through my peripheral vision to find the best escape route.

“Are you nuts Tony?” I see the exact moment when Tony realizes how much of a shit plan this was, because his eyes comically widen and he sheepishly shrugs at his sister.

“I panicked, and I saw the footage of Peter so I decided to...”

Liz can be an exceptional listener most of the time excluding the times when she is angry; then, she has no tolerance to listen to excuses and blubbers of words.

“...What, bring in a little kid to fight against two super soldiers, a man with mechanical wings, and two enhanced humans? You do realize that you are responsible for him right?”

Her complete attention is focused on trying to attempt reason with her brother and so I decide to make my escape, turning around and attempting to run the other way. A hand on my collar stops me, and I grudgingly find that Liz’s stern expression has diverted to me.

“You know, you’re supposed to be the rational one out of the two of you.”

I raise both my hands up in protest, gaining much-needed confidence when I see that she isn’t really as mad at me compared to Tony, “Hey, he’s my boss. I'm supposed to do what he tells me to do,”

She rolls her eyes at me, “That wouldn’t have been such a shitty excuse if you haven’t been defying the two of us for the past ten years and telling _us_ what to do. After Pepper, I can't think of anyone who hasn’t parented me more.”

She heaves in a great sigh, and I make a mental note to myself to drag her to the theatre room and watch any movie she wants along with eating any food she wants for a whole night. She deserves it.

“But since you seem to be in the whole boss slash employee mentality, why don't you go bring the car Happs, so that your boss can get himself to work on locating Barnes and Steve and coming up with ways as to how we can avoid a fight?”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice and, ignoring Tony’s pleas, then threat to stay, I dash out of there immediately, the elevator opening in time for me to hear Liz screaming at Tony once more.

I drown out the lecture on guardianship, responsibility, and children until I don't need to, and then I'm in the comfort of my limo, unable to do much apart from sitting in the driver’s seat and waiting for the oldest Stark to make an appearance.

I can't help but feel worried for the kid.

**Peter**

The room is huge. It's basically an entire apartment and there have been very few moments where I have imagined myself privy to such luxury. But on the rare occasion where I have dreamed of getting into such places of high pristine, the first thing I always did was jump around the room, on the bed, turn on the TV, order as much junk food as I can and have the time of my life.

Instead, I sit in the comfy armchair looking out the window, unable to appreciate the view due to the pounding fear in my heart.

Mr. Hogan really scared me when he told me about Ms.Stark. While she appeared on the news occasionally, it was never as often as her brother was, and I'm not entirely sure how she really is as a person. Mr. Hogan told me that she was going to be so pissed at Mr. Stark for bringing me here, and even though she was polite to me during our initial meeting, I'm afraid she’s going to send me back to Queens. Considering all the yelling that I hear from the other side of the door, it seems to be the most probable case.

A moment of silence (no yelling, no banter, just silence) later, I'm startled by the tapping on the door.

Presuming it to be Mr. Stark I fling it open, and unsuccessfully hide my shock when it turns out to be Ms. Stark, leaning against the doorframe, smiling at me nervously.

“Hi, Peter, right?” She asks me, looking much calmer and relaxed than she was when I first saw her.

I nod mutely, unable to say a word and she continues,

“So...um...Tony, Mr. Stark...whatever you call him, he went to the Tower to find Captain America’s location and so I offered to help you settle in and at the time I thought it was an excellent idea, but now that I think about it, I'm not really sure whether you want me to help you settle in. So if you want, I can call Happy, and he’ll be here in ten minutes and he’ll help you unpack and you know...” She trails off awkwardly, and the fact that I know how nervous she is about this as well, allows me to grow more comfortable.

“No, No. Mr. Hogan doesn’t have to come back.” Hastily I add, “You don't have to either, I can figure things out on my own.”

She smiles warmly at me, “I'm sure you can, but it’d be much easier if I helped, and I don't have anything else to do and I fear I'm going crazy so...”

I smile at her, but then the smile turns into a sheepish flush when my stomach grumbles too loudly for my preference, and judging by the sound of the growl, I'm surprised all of New York didn't hear it.

“Why don't we get something to eat first? I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday and I'm can bet you I can make a hungry growl far louder than yours.”  As she speaks, she makes her way towards the door and I'm left with no choice but to follow her out (not that there was any choice; I would do anything for something to eat right now).

We walk through the busy streets until we reach a small, cozy looking cafe, and I'm secretly grateful that she didn't take me to some fancy restaurant that these rich people waste their time on.

We seat ourselves in a booth at the far back and the owners of the cafe spot her immediately despite her blending in, effectively in the crowd with her jean jacket, leggings, and ponytail.

“M.s Stark, how are you doing this morning?” The owner approaches us with kind eyes, stooping down to our level, and maintaining a quiet whisper.

“I'm good, you know...considering everything. Thank you.”

He then focuses his attention on me, and produces a notepad, and I immediately decide that I like this guy. When traveling with Mr. Stark, most people either brushed off my presence as something unimportant, or just pretended I wasn’t there.

“What are your orders for today?”

I look at Ms. Stark and she nods towards me, indicating to order whatever I want. I look at the menu and unconsciously grab the bills in my pocket, mentally weighing how much I can afford to buy for my meal.

“Can I get the pancakes with ice cream please,” I ask the owner, ordering the one thing that caught my eye.

He writes it down with a dramatic flourish and looks towards Ms. Stark who looks as excited as I do as she scrolls through the list of foods.

“I will have the waffles with maple syrup, ice cream, and blueberries. Oh, and hot cocoa for the two of us!” She exclaims just as the owner makes his way to leave, and he nods his head in understanding, before scurrying off into the kitchen.

“So, Peter, how much has Tony actually told you about the Accords?” Ms. Stark asks me, not bothering to make small talk and beat around the bush. I suppose it's because they’re all on limited time.

I clear my throat, “Um...he told me that Captain America is helping The Winter Solider escape, and that we need to find him before someone else does. He told me that the Winter Soldier is probably innocent in most of this, and that the Scarlet Witch, Falcon, and Hawkeye are a part of his team.”

She blinks her eyes, looking quite shocked.

“That actually almost sums it all up. I'm surprised he actually told you everything. He usually has a hard time doing that.” She tells me, looking pretty proud of her brother.

She scans the sparsely populated cafe to check if anyone is trying to overhear our conversation (as any sane person would do suppose someone as famous as Elizabeth Stark started to gossip in close vicinity) before lowering her voice; not too much that it's a whisper, but just enough so that it doesn’t echo, “Look, I know you think you know what your signing up for. And you are old enough to make your own judgments. I just want you to know that this is not going to be easy. I know Steve Rogers more than Tony does and I know that he is not going to surrender without a fight. And I really don't want you getting caught in the crossfire.”

She tells me things that I have already suspected. They’re unnecessary, because I've weighed the pros and cons of this particular trip in the plane, and I made the choice to come out here and make an actual difference as Spiderman rather than stop petty thefts and car crashes. I want to be able to do something worthwhile with these powers, and I truly think that the world will benefit if Captain America is not a fugitive.

The words Mr. Stark said previously come back to me, and I question Ms. Stark, “Mr. Stark said that Captain America was dangerous because he is wrong and he thinks he is right.”

I give her a moment to think. Because while Mr. Stark was talking about the man in the costume, referring to him in terms of variables and science, Ms. Stark has a completely different relationship with him (the kind that was plastered all over the news for three months and never really left) and a statement like that takes some time to consider.

She replies sooner than I expected, “No. Tony’s talking about the Accords. There’s no right or wrong there. It's a matter of opinion and values.” She pauses, truly debating over whether she should say the next thing that crosses her mind, “No, Steve Rogers is dangerous because he’s giving up everything he has to salvage his past and he’s ruining his future in the process.”

Next thing I know, is that there are two plates stacked high with pancakes and waffles being set on the table and the conversation takes a much lighter turn. We talk about everything; school, Mr. Stark, Aunt Mae, the Hulk, The Avengers, New York’s invasion, Ultron, Stark Med, my powers, Ned, high school.

It turns out that I was worried about meeting Ms. Stark for no reason after all.

**Rhodey**

Oh, Crap!

This isn’t good. This wasn’t supposed to happen.  We had a plan. Anybody remember the plan? The one where we calmly (emphasis on the calm), peacefully (emphasis on the peace), and civilly (emphasis on the civil) convince team Cap to come back to the headquarters with us so that we will figure a way out of this without anyone getting hurt.

Instead, we’re standing across from each other, as if we were America and Germany in the Second World War, neither side willing to come to an agreement and fix this.

“Your judgment is askew,” Tony has malice dripping out of his voice.

Oh, Crap.

Many people think that being Tony Stark’s best friend comes with a whole world of opportunities and advantageous. It's true. I've worked my ass off and poured everything I have to get into the position I am right now, but it always helped that I had contacts, resources, and a private jet at my disposal as an aid to achieve my goals.

But being Tony Stark’s best friend requires many learning curves, especially after you are sucked into all things Stark.

The Number One Rule; call Liz when things get out of hand. Never, ever try to handle it on your own; you’re just going to fail.

Tony and Captain are still arguing about something as I tell the AI programmed into the suit, “Anna, mute my intercom.”

The faint click indicates the completion of the task, and I raise my voice so that Anna hears my next task, “Call Elizabeth Stark. Make sure she picks up.”

It's not as if she won’t. The poor girl’s been on an edge ever since this whole fiasco started, she picks up every damn phone call she receives before it even starts to ring. When this is all over someone better book her a trip to the Bahamas. I'm going to book her a trip to the Bahamas.

“Rhodes?” She answers in one ring (as expected), and I force myself to keep calm as Natasha surrounds Steve. 

“I'm sending you the address; get your ass over here now.”

“What’s going on?” she asks, and I hear the rustling in the background, telling me that she is out of her seat, and leaving the Tower as we speak.

“Tony found Steve. Steve is being stubborn. Tony is also being stubborn. They don't want to talk it out. Tony’s spider friend is ready to pounce. This is a disaster.” I summarize the events taking place as best as I can, leaving out the minuscule details for when she arrives.

Such as the spider – thing making his entry by stealing Captain’s shield.

Oh, Crap.

“Hey Rhodes, do you think Tony will get mad if I borrowed his suits?” She asks suddenly, and I have to appreciate her quick thinking (the suit will get her here faster than anything else will) and scoff at her ignorance.

Tony has all the suits programmed to her first, even before him.

So I answer truthfully, stating one fact that no one in this world will ever disagree on (we can make world peace with this truth) “Honey, I don't think he’ll be mad if you wanted to borrow his heart. Now get your ass over here.”

She replies with an “on my way” and the line goes dead just as something rises out of thin air and knocks spider boy down and returns the shield to Captain.

OH, CRAP


	7. The Avengers Vs The War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elizabeth Stark I heard of had fire in her eyes, light in her lungs, and life in her soul. This isn’t Elizabeth Stark.

**The Avengers Vs The War**

**Clint**

_“Honey,” The sound of Laura’s panicked voice snaps me out of my sleep in a second, shooting up and out of the bed and running into the living room where her voice just came from._

_Her panic could have meant anything; Lila and Cooper arguing, Nathaniel falling out of the crib, the pies in the oven burning, but in my world, the world that I chose to live in, Laura panicking is also a possible sign of danger, a sign that someone found out about her and the kids, and now they’re here to take them away from me._

_I didn't even realize the extent of my pounding heart and the way it wouldn’t give in until I had eyes on the kids and my wife, all safe and sound, and I take in a moment to breathe._

_“Honey?”I cautiously approach her. She’s carrying Nathaniel in her arms and staring outside the front porch along with the kids, whose eyes are wide and jaws open._

_And if I hadn’t seen the shit I’d seen the past few years, I'm sure that I’d have the same reaction._

_The farmhouse I picked out for my family years ago when Laura was pregnant with Cooper was relatively simple. It was how the two of us liked it, and it was most likely to attract the least amount of attention. It has miles and miles of empty land surrounding it and a nice wooden fence to distinguish our land from stray land._

_The nice wooden fence, which is, at the moment, littered with a bunch of high tech items along with a couple of drones flying above it, approaching our house._

_“Cooper,” I address my oldest and, without taking my eyes off the drone, I tell him, “Go get my bow for me please.”_

_I hear the pitter patter of his not-so-little feet and Laura worriedly calling my name. I reassure her with a glance and once I have my bow and arrows in hand, I slowly prowl through the large yard to the fence, where I can now properly see the previously unknown tech._

_I drop my bow in relief when I see the familiar etchings on the odd silver balls, and I turn to give a thumbs up to Laura, who takes a crying Nathaniel back into the house before I pull my phone out of my pocket._

_He doesn’t answer as expected, so I opt to contact him through a different person, and she, as expected answers on the first ring._

_“Hey there Robin Hood. Glad to see that you didn't forget about us.”_

_I chuckle, “Nope. It's kind of hard to when your brother keeps sending unwanted gifts.”_

_“So he actually did it,” She muses and since I'm already talking to her, I’ve decided to gain some clarifications._

_“Mind filling me in on exactly what he did. I'm kind of lost here.”_

_I hear the familiar rustle of the hospital before the other side is filled with silence and Liz speaks once again, “Oh ya sure. Uhhhh, those weird ball thingies are cameras, I'm sure Tony hacked into your computer and granted you access already. There are tiny motion sensors on the fence too, as well as some additional ones on your front porch, windows and back entrances and you know those drone thingies?”_

_She continues without letting me answer in affirmative,_

_“There are three of them. Two circles beyond the perimeter of the farmhouse giving you live feed and instant warning before an unwanted guest even reach anywhere near your house and the third is more like an alarm with a sound system that will wake up the entire house. All three are programmed to identify you, Laura, the kids, us Avengers and Nick Fury. Anyone else will cause an alarm to tip off and the Avengers to be notified.”_

_I'm speechless and I have no idea what to say, and she seems to understand that as well._

_“It’s just for safety concerns. SHIELD is down and Tony wasn’t sure how much security you and the kids had and so he just added a couple of things.”_

_I scoff, “A couple of things. This might be more secure than some of the Hydra camps we’ve invaded.”_

_“He never does anything half-assed,” She cuts in before I can even speak, “Oh, and don't bring this up with him. He’ll just brush it off and then over think it. He did it for a friend and let’s just leave it at that. if you really want, just casually bring it up in a conversation in the future.”_

_“Got it.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And as I watch the first of the cars come crashing towards the suit, (sometimes, it's easy to forget that there is a man under the suit) it hits me, at the worst possible moment, that I've yet to thank the billionaire for his involvement in the safety and security of my home.

Then the cars come crashing down and even though I knew that one of him would be no match for fifty cars, it still shocks me when he struggles after the first ten, bracing his hands up in the air to protect himself while Wanda relentlessly keeps them coming.

I'm about to tell her to ease it up a bit; we definitely don't want to hurt him, when the cars freeze in place and an angry blue surrounds the man in the suit and then the cars are crashing down once again, only this time, they bounce off the blue wall that surrounds Iron Man (the blue wall whose origins are easy to guess) and come charging at us and eventually it is too much for even Wanda to handle.

I brace myself for an oncoming car but open my eyes when I don't feel the pain I anticipated and see it being held back by a long swirling electric string.

The cars fall straight down now, not hurting anyone else, and I look at Elizabeth Stark impassively (I'm not going to be grateful that she saved me from the danger that she also put me in) while she looks thoroughly pissed.

She turns to her brother and tells him, “I'm going to help the rest of these people evacuate, some of them can't go further than the outside of this airport. In the meantime why don't you try to resolve this with a limited amount of violence like we discussed,”

His mechanical head nods and as she’s leaving, she levels both me and Wanda with the famous Elizabeth Stark glare, “If I come back to whatever shit-show you were playing with my brother, I'm going to be so pissed Clint .”

She doesn’t give me an opportunity to respond even though I know the words are true. I was witness to her attacking Steve last year during the whole Ultron fiasco when he and Tony fought and I know that she’ll give us all hell suppose any of her loved ones get hurt.

But I'm tired. I'm not a five-year-old kid. I don't need to be told what to do. I don't deserve Elizabeth Stark’s hostility because I decided to choose to be on the side she wasn’t.

**Scott**

When I first signed up for this, I wasn’t completely thinking. In fact, I don't think I was thinking at all.

In my defence, there isn’t much to say when some dude pulls up in front of your apartment, shakes your hand, introduces himself as _the Falcon_ and then proceeds to tell you that _Captain America_ needs your help. I was lucky that I could even formulate a sentence to say yes, let alone think things through and consider the potential circumstances or whatever shit Grace tells me to do.

So yea, I wasn’t really thinking.

Which explains a whole lot of why I'm lined up beside a bunch of superheroes, facing a whole line of more superheroes (IRON MAN!!!!!) and increasing my pace steadily as we cross the remaining distance between both sides in what is about to become the face off of the century.

But karma is a bitch and the bitch decided to open up my thinking and decision weighing capacities at this moment, which is the worst moment, because it allows me to see this whole situation for what it really is.

Two teams of equally powerful superheroes disagreeing? Not good.

Two teams of equally powerful superheroes fighting it out? Bad Idea.

Two teams of equally powerful superheroes battling each other at a German airport, where one team are wanted international fugitives, the other team won’t listen to reason, and if both teams don’t settle the shit down, a bunch of evil super soldiers will attack the planet? Fucking Terrible Idea.

Unfortunately, I come to this conclusion just a tad bit late, and since I already awed both sides with my magnificent shrinking skills, backing out would just prove me a sissy and do me no good either way since I already signed my fate when I put on the suit today.

So I run beside the team of strangers I literally just met and for the first time in a long time, I find myself looking up to the heavens _before_ I do something particularly stupid and praying to whatever deity that exists, to figure this shit out.

My prayers are answered when (and I don't miss the irony of this) I'm sent crashing back a couple of feet knocked by a wave of pure power. That’s the only way to describe it. Power. It's hot and cold at the same time, hard and soft, sharp and dull, always strong and overwhelming. It's unlike anything I've ever felt before and I know the origin even before I get myself back up on my feet with difficulty.

Elizabeth Stark stares wide-eyed at both sides before covering her mouth and cowering slightly, “Ooops. Sorry about that,” She raises her hands in the air in the typical surrender position, “That was my bad. Didn't mean for that to happen. I swear that five minutes ago I could land without sending everyone flying but five minutes ago I also told someone to settle this peacefully.” She sends a pointed look at her brother who just shrugs.

She looks to Steve Rogers who mimics Tony Stark’s action.

It pisses her off.

“What The Hell Are You Guys Doing!” She refers to all of us but her focus is primarily on Captain America and Iron Man (thank the lord for that).

“We need them in ASAP Liz.” The golden and red suit’s mechanical voice resonates throughout the now empty lot.

“And what? You’re going to beat them into a pulp and deliver them unconscious?” Her back is turned away from us and I find myself wondering why the hell we’re not making a run for it.

Sam senses my urge, “Don't even think about it, man. You don't want to make that woman pissed.”

I nod as Stark says, “Well if Captain there would just cooperate and work things out with me here, then there is going to be no need of a fight.”

Whether Liz was going to condemn Cap or continue reasoning with her brother is left undetermined because the Captain makes the choice for her by opening his mouth, “And if you stop being Ross’ lapdog for a minute and see things from my perspective there is no need of a fight.”

She looks at the Captain in disbelief, “You’re supposed to be better than that,”

He shakes his head, “I'm tired of fighting with everyone Liz,”

 “Then stop fighting!” Liz blatantly shouts the answer and I compel myself to not nod along with her.

“I can't. There are more of them Liz. I need to get to the rest.” Sam filled me in on the basics; something about evil super soldiers that will cause havoc if Steve doesn’t find them before some evil terrorist does. A lot of evil was thrown in and I just nodded along, pretending to actually understand half the crap Sam shoved at me along with some half-assed explanation as to why this was the only option.

Elizabeth takes in a breath and exhales it in frustration, “And then what? You find them, and then the one hundred and seventeen countries that are after you will find _you_. They’ll shoot, you’ll fight, we lose people and then you end up arrested. There is no point in finding these soldiers if you can't do anything afterwards Steve. You need to work with us. We’re a team” She looks so tired I'm afraid that she’s going to collapse.

The Elizabeth Stark I heard of had fire in her eyes, light in her lungs, and life in her soul. This isn’t Elizabeth Stark.

“We’re not a team anymore. Your brother made sure of that when he signed.” Steve retorts back simply, and although I know it's not going lead to the peace that Elizabeth was just talking about, I take a moment to appreciate the effect the words have on the doctor.  

The fire I heard so much about returns into her eyes; an excessive amount that broadcasts her anger as she sarcastically retorts, “Oh, and you kept us together when you _didn't_ sign.”

“I'm done listening to you Liz,” Steve says at the same time a new heavily accented voice says, “I'm getting tired of this.” Before I can even turn around to look at her, the Scarlet Witch has sent a streak of red spiralling towards Liz’s direction.

She doesn’t expect it and the blast sends her flying through the air and onto the ground, and her brother rushes towards her, which isn’t a surprise. The way Steve immediately tenses up, clenches his fists and grits his teeth is though.

He gives me a signal, the same signal that is sent to everyone, and by the time that Liz is up on her feet, the Avengers have already collided, and even though she can't see me, or has no clue as to who I am, I give her a small smile before I feel the world getting bigger and bigger and I'm ready to battle.

Before I do, I see Liz rising up into the air, the action going unnoticed by the occupied Avengers, but I see it and I can't help but familiarize the look on her face; the same look Maggie always had after a particularly bad fight between the two of us. She would go upstairs to cry, before she would return down.

Her heart hard and stone mask in place.

**Bucky**

The things that suck about having a metal arm;

Hydra made it   
You can't feel shit  
Eating is sometimes gross  
Hydra Made it   
The looks   
The fear   
The inability to touch someone with that arm without causing them great pain.   
Many, Many more

The one advantage of having a metal arm;

You can hold your ground in an unfair fight between you and some super ninja cat that is dead set to kill you because of a misunderstanding that made him think that you killed his father.

And even though I'm not under the influence of the Winter Soldier at the moment (hopefully never again), I know, for a fact, that Bucky Barnes has never had a whole lot of patience or a very good lid on his anger.

I'm being falsely accused and hunted down for a crime I didn't commit and every second wasted fighting Tony Stark and his gang is another second we’re delayed in trying to find those supersoldiers and is another second Zemo is closer to finding the soldiers and using it for whatever messed up crap he has in store.

It's by channelling that anger and impatience that I finally get an opening and send all the blood down to whatever is left of my left arm before sending it forward with such force that it should have sent the newly appointed King of Wakanda flying.

If it weren’t for the long-ass rope of blue sparks that weaves itself through said arm, causing it to halt a couple inches from T’Challa’s face before I am able to punch him.  

Thankfully, Wanda takes care of the king for me and it allows me to place my single-minded focus on the dark haired woman in front of me; the first person outside of Steve to smile at me with kindness and talk to me as if I were a human being despite being fully aware of the things I've done.

Cross that out; not all the things I've done. If she knew what I really did, she would have me bleeding on the ground in minutes.

Keeping my focus on the prospect of more Winter Soldiers, a give a hard tug on the rope and she yelps in shock when she’s propelled forward and I victoriously smile before it is wiped off when the rope disappears in a crackle of shocks and she flips and lands a hard blow to my stomach.

It doesn’t do much, and I ball my fists, trying to grab her and punch her and she gracefully dodges my blows.

It finally occurs to me, after moments of the cat and mouse game, that I've seen her fight before, during the New York fiasco and the Ultron mess. The powers she had oozed out of every cement had helped crash a region to pieces. And when I find myself fighting a fair fight with her, I know that she isn’t trying.

She must see the realization in my face because as she ducks under my leg and kicks my spine in a way that would have bruised for days if not for the super healing as she says, “I don't actually want to hurt any of you.”

I shrug slightly at her offended look, before grabbing her hips and crashing her to the ground with a little less force than I'm used to but she manages to break her fall with a bend of her legs and a flip, but she keeps on talking, “I'm assuming the Winter Soldier is gone and your back to being good ole’ James now, right?”

I look at her in shock, wondering if Steve told her about the Winter Soldier’s programming. Then I realize it isn’t possible because I just told Steve about the notebook and the words along with everything.

I stop fighting and she does too, arching an eyebrow at my disbelief, “I'm not Tony Stark, but I do have a Bachelors of Science, two P.H.Ds, an M.D and an M.S. I can sort of figure out thing on my own,”

I nod, my guard still up. I have no reason to believe that her being nice will interfere with her trying to stop Steve. We circle around each other, “You still haven’t told me what I should call you,”

I refer back to our conversation in Berlin, right before I went all macho on her and everyone and I can't help the smile at her, my first genuine smile as I tell her, “James,”

Not even a second later, I am charging into her, ready to knock her down cold, but with lightning fast reflexes, she grabs onto my shoulder, hoists herself up, and kicks me on the side of my skull before sending me down and punching my gut. I look at the sky as her guilty face comes into view and I know she’s scanning me to look for any fatal injuries.

“It was nice to meet you, James,” Is the last thing I hear before I close my eyes and allow myself some time to take a break.

I think I might have made a new friend.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. The Avengers Vs The War Part 2

**The Avengers Vs The War Part 2**

**Pietro**

Sometimes, it is easier for me to feel more alone than I am. The world moves in slow motion fifty percent of the time for me and it's easy to get lost in the emptiness of it all. I don't fight with my fists. I don't punch or kick or produce shards of icicles or fly in a suit.

I run.

I can’t fight alongside Wanda the way Tony and Liz do; telling each other jokes and talking about mundane things in the line of fire. I can't fight the way the rest of the Avengers do, talking to each other, helping each other out, sending wild or silly looks from across the battlefield.

For me, the world starts moving when I stop. And in battle, I can never stop. Stopping means putting yourself at a risk of being hurt or killed and I can't do that to Wanda.

Most of the time, it is easy to forget the loneliness of the world moving slower than I when I am given the opportunity to see the beauty of the world in slow motion.

Today is not one of those days.

There is nothing beautiful about a family being torn apart. Nothing pleasing to look at when hearts are being broken, ties are being cut.

It's hard to force down the guilt as I'm running around in this enormous airport, slowing down for a fraction of a second when I get to a person to determine whether they are on Wanda’s side or not.

Because that is what this is. I am in complete support of the Accords. I don't appreciate Stark trapping my sister up like some caged animal, but I'm sure we could have worked that out eventually.

But like half the people in this fight, I believe that the only way we can gain accountability for what we do and have all the peoples’ support is by signing that document that makes us seem like a lesser threat to the civilians and I thought that Wanda, who played a role alongside me in the destruction that Ultron caused last year would be open to that idea.

Because the truth is; the two of us have not paid for our actions. Without the role that Wanda and I played, Ultron could have never been possible. We played a crucial role in killing all those people, and then we hid behind the Starks and the Avengers and they protected us, claiming that we were children who didn't understand what we were doing. I say otherwise.

However, instead of supporting, what I feel is right; I'm knocking down the people whom I support, all in favour of my sister. We’ve stuck together all these years and I am not about to let something as minuscule as a document tear us apart.

And because I was so lost in my thoughts, I end up knocking down the one person I have tried so hard to avoid.

She stumbles slightly instead of falling face flat on the ground like the others that I've hurt and I know it's because I stopped before I can fully hit her.

“Hey!” I stop running when I hear her voice and I look up to see her eyes shining with mirth, confirming her mock anger.

I decide to play around.

“Sorry Ms. Stark, you’re the enemy, ya?”

She places her hands on her hips and scans the area, only to see everyone else occupied with their own targets, “I’ll show you how much of an enemy I am if you call me Ms. Stark one more time. For the last time Pietro, it's Liz. Half of my employees don't even call me Ms. Stark. You’re my teammate!”

From my peripheral vision, I see Wanda knock down Natasha and run towards my direction and I start to whizz, seeing the angry red spark that charges towards Liz in slow-motion, and it allows me to grab onto the raven-haired doctor and pull her away from the line of fire so that the red collides with the cargo box and sends it flying.

She picks up on the action immediately and smiles at me, grabbing onto my hand and tucking a piece of paper into it, before she runs off to the other side of the airport, to where I faintly see the flying red and gold armour.

I close my fists before I turn towards Wanda, who looks at me with a demeanour that is confused and disapproving.

I arch my eyebrows at her, silently challenging her to say anything, “What? I have made it clear that I don't agree with what you’re doing, yes? I'm doing this for you but do not expect me to stand here and let you hurt someone who was nothing but kind to us even after we hurt her friend.”

I internally flinch for bringing the topic of Charlotte McCoy up, but I don't let Wanda see it as I whizz away to the distance, running in patterns to clear the thoughts in my head.

The piece of paper that Liz gave to me is safely tucked into the pocket of my suit, ready to be read once this mess is over.

If it ever will be.

**Peter**

_We have a plan. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan._

The voice in my head that unsurprisingly sounds so much like Ned stands its ground as I swing myself from object to object, my new (awesome) computerized (awesome) mask (did I mention that it was awesome?) calculating the length of the web I need along with a bunch of other calculations I don't have time to analyze. I probably couldn’t even if I tried. Not until all this adrenaline is swept away and replaced by fear of what I'm doing.

Because I am literally fighting alongside half of the greatest heroes ever against the other half of the greatest heroes ever.

I'm just a fifteen-year-old kid from Brooklyn who got bitten by a spider and wears an onesie as a suit. This is way past my league.

_We have a plan. Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan._

The plan created by Mr. Stark and then modified by Ms. Stark was to avoid direct contact with any of these people. Fly high, strike low and when they come at you, fly away.

It's too bad that the voice in my head reminding me to stick to the plan sounds so much like Ned. Everyone knows that the friendship between Ned and I works best when he tells me one thing and I do the exact opposite, relishing in his face once he realized what I've done.

It's too bad that Ned isn’t here right now. It's too bad I can't tell him about all this.

It's too bad that I won’t see his face when I tell him that at a point during this ‘War’ I swing my way to the Captain, who somehow managed to isolate himself from the others who are busting their asses against each other.

That point is right now.

I swing on a web trying to catch up to him (is it humanly possible to be running so quickly?) and then all of a sudden, there is nothing keeping me up in the air and I'm tumbling down, all thanks to an oversized Frisbee.

Luckily, I land on one of the cargo boxes and slide to a stop, looking down at the Captain, who, by some logic, has gotten the Frisbee that he threw at no damn accuracy back.

And since my brain to mouth filter has been on point today, I decide that it can't hurt for me to stumble on my words any more than I already have. “That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all,” I tell him, getting into a much comfortable position to try and mask the surge of pain.

Not even a fraction of a second later, he lectures me, “Look, kid, there’s a lot going on here that you don't understand,”

_He’s going to tell you that you don't understand any of this. I think you’re smarter than you seem. So I'm going to put all the cards on the table. Well, my friend Natasha here will, she’s less biased than I am._

“Mr. Stark said you’d say that,” I make a sound of disbelief because the wording parallels almost directly from what I've heard a few hours ago.

_Go for the legs kid. His shield protects his upper half, you want a chance with him, you take him out through his legs._

_“Don't listen to my brother Peter, you come face to face with Steve, you focus on getting yourself as far away from him as possible. You remember what we discussed during breakfast right?”_

_“Um, what breakfast? You telling the kid crap about me?”_

I mentally apologize to Ms. Stark as I shoot a string of web at the Captain’s face, and as expected (and hoped) he immediately brings his shield up to protect it. Without leaving any time for him to take another breath, I press the palm of my other hand, aiming straight for his foot, the sticky substance getting a tight enough grip so that when I pull he comes sliding onto the ground.

I crash into him, foot first and flip up and out of the way, ignoring my discomfort at being thrown around so much to eye the shield that has been flung away a couple of feet from where the Captain lies.

“He also said to go for the legs,”

He gets up slowly, his hand raised up in a gesture I know means surrender.

Sometimes, the opponent you face makes it ten times easier for you when they incorrectly assume you to be a naive fifteen-year-old who hasn’t seen his fair share of tragedy.

“Stark tell you anything else?”

Somehow, he has his Frisbee back and in an offence position, ready to fight once again and I consider his question, “No.”

I see the exact moment he gets ready to attack and add, loudly so that it’ll register through his adrenaline haze, ‘But Ms. Stark did,”

He falters, then stops, immediately becoming rigid and tense, a flash of pain and something else travelling through his face, clear as day despite the mask.

_“I didn't want to say this in front of my sister kid, but Cap’s weakness, his true weakness; it's her. Hopefully, she’ll be able to get through to him and we won’t even have to strategically plan to go for the legs,”_

“What did she say?” He tries to come off as unbothered, but I hear the vulnerability in his voice, and I almost don't want to tell him, but then I wonder if maybe, this might be the words he needs to hear to put an end to this (I’ve seen my fair share of tragedy, but I’ve still got some naive in me).

“That you want to salvage your past. That you’re ruining your future because of it. That it makes you dangerous,” I try to remember the long phrase she said yesterday morning, relatively quoting her.

“Peter,” Ms. Stark herself comes on the line, and I press the middle of my suit to speak to her,

“Ya?”

I hear guns, and grunts and crashes through her side of the line, her panicked voice overriding them all, “Stick to the plan Parker. You’re supposed to actively avoid any situations that have anything to do with you confronting Captain America,”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice; I'm all ready to swing out of the way; the bruises and aches in my body probably also agree.

Just one more for Ned.

I swing under the large container and charge for the Captain feet first like the last time, only this time he anticipates the move and does some weird-ass flip, effectively knocking me onto the ground, all the while saying, “I guess she’s right. But then again, when is she not?”

And before I can even assess my environment and even realize I'm right under the goddamn cargo container, the wretched thing is falling on top of me, and even for someone with super strength like the kind I have, my already tired bones and muscles protest in retaliation as I struggle to hold up the large weight.

I can't hear anything other than the blood pounding in my ears, and I collapse on the ground as soon as the heavy metal is lifted out of my dead hands, and I faintly see the thing go flying through the air by a spiral of water (serves it right) before Elizabeth Stark’s face is all my weary eyes can pinpoint.

“You okay,” she doesn’t touch me, but her concern does and I allow that concern to recharge me.

I get up and smile, even though she can't see me, and I give her two thumbs up before swinging away, registering the worried expression on her face.

All for good reason. I don't think any of this is supposed to hurt this much.

**Steve**

I know it was a shitty move. Truth is, I wasn’t thinking straight. The kid told me about Liz and what she said and I stopped thinking after that. I always stopped thinking when she was concerned.

By the time I realized that the kid couldn’t hold up the boulder (he survived for such a long time, I'm impressed), Liz had already swooped in and saved him, and even as he slings away (are they real webs?) I can see the little crease under her lips, indicating worry.

It morphs into anger (anger is putting it too lightly, she’s fucking furious) as she turns around to face me, and I probably should run, probably should have run when she was distracted, but I didn't and now I have to face this. Face her.

“Are you shitting me right now?”

She marches up to me, and I inconveniently note that the fire in her eyes, the fire that was missing when I last saw her, is back in full force, blazing and burning, allowing me to see the Elizabeth Stark that I love.

Except now, she’s pissed at me.

“He’s a kid Steve. You don't throw heavy ass cargo containers at him!”

Behind me I can hear the fight playing out, the people that I've grown to care about fighting against each other, the potential threat of the Doctor finding the Winter Soldiers looming above my head, and the tiredness of it all just consuming me.  

“Maybe Tony should have never brought him here in the first place,” I tell Liz, sick of getting everything blamed on me.

She winces, choking out a bittersweet laugh, “This isn’t you.”

Her words release the pent-up anger and frustration, and I match her fire for my own, “And how would you know? You’ve done nothing these past few days but tell me off for helping my friend, saving Buck. You have not even once tried to understand what I'm trying to do. So how the hell, Liz, would you know who I am?”

She flinches back in shock and hurt, her lip quivering and her voice wavering as she replies in a soft voice that is barely a whisper, “I fell in love with you,”

My gut twists in a way so painful, I choke and we don't say anything for a long time. Her hands are clenched and her lips pressed tightly into a thin line, but none of these actions do anything to reduce the glassiness in her eyes or the heartbreak etched on her face. She looks painfully sad, and I can’t help but wonder if this is goodbye; wonder if I've finally managed to chase away the one good thing in my life.

And any self-restraint I had is fallen away when the first teardrop leaves her eyes and trails down her cheeks, followed by a swallow that is obviously trying to reign in a sob.

“Liz...” I take a step towards her, the distance between us lost by a fraction.

I put my other foot forward to repeat the step but then find myself unable to move beyond that. I look down at the two heavy blocks of ice pinning me into the ground and then back at the woman in front of me, tears freely streaming down her cheeks now.

She shakes her head, “Don't,” she whispers brokenly, her hands wrapped around her stomach in a futile attempt of a shield.

To shield her away from me.

I don't say anything as she walks past me, her long wave of hair preventing me from seeing her face that is turned away from me.

I helplessly stand there, facing the spot where she once stood despite me being fully aware that she hasn’t left yet.

Her footsteps come to a stop directly behind me, but I don't turn around, just continue staring at that same spot.

“Goodbye Steve,” She chokes out, her voice so close to a sob. I close my eyes to avoid anyone seeing the tears that have risen up out of their own accords, and I only reopen my eyes once I hear the familiar thump of her boots no more.

I direct my eyes to the spot where Liz once stood, the fight slowly draining out in me. Circumstances change when I see Bucky, running towards me while Sam keeps Rhodey occupied.

His metal arm is clenched and I know that he’s going to try to thaw the ice himself. It’s going to be a fairly simple task for him, especially since Liz make the ice so loosely packed that I can probably get out of it myself if I wanted to.

I can't. Because as Bucky runs towards me, the sudden realization hits me.

I knew eventually, I was going to have to choose between Bucky and Liz.

And I chose Bucky.

**Wanda**

I've been privy to many things in my life.

Hydra, my powers, Ultron, the Avengers.

It has come to a point where nothing really surprises me anymore, not even the eventual breakup of the team that I had previously thought were as tight as glue. I guess everything has to break apart soon, even the best of relationships, even the greatest of teams.

Despite everything that I have faced, all the greatness that I've seen, it still manages to astound me when Scott Lang, also known as Antman, grows a hundred times the normal human size and rises into the air with a loud roar that resonates throughout the entire airport (and probably beyond that) and I'm forced to cover my ears and watch as the Not-So-Ant-Man wraps his left hand on Rhodey’s metal leg and his other hand on Stark’s.

I hear shouts of encouragement from my side of the team while Stark’s side looks shocked and surprised as hell, and I get a trivial amount of satisfaction when they also display a small amount of fear.

I spot Steve and Barnes on the other side of the airport, staring open-jawed at the giant before making a run for it, as Scott waves both Tony and Rhodey dangerously in the air, and I know that however protected the suit is, a human body cannot handle that type of treatment. No one does anything though, not even their own teammates, they can't do anything but stare helplessly due to Scott’s intimidating size and bulk.

But everyone freezes, comically so, when Elizabeth Stark rises in the air, directly eye to eye with Scott, and screams in a voice that is made louder through the tech in the suit that allows the entire airport to hear her words.

“I Swear To God Mr. Lang, If You Don't Release My Brothers, I Am Going To Blow Up This Entire Airport And Every Single One Of You Can Die Along With It!”

And even though she is several feet above ground, I know that Scott can see and fear the blazing blue in her eyes that always accompanies her whenever she is pissed. I should know; I've been on the receiving end of those eyes not so long ago.

Surprisingly, it's Steve, who I thought avoided all interactions or decision making when it involved Liz, who speaks up into the open comm, “Let them go, Scott. You’re holding the two most important people in Liz’s life and she will do what she said if she has to.”

I'm not entirely sure if Tony and Rhodey were let go after that. In fact, I'm not even sure what happened after that.

Steve’s words twisted my brain into overdrive and my eyes automatically sought out for my brother. I find him slouched in a corner, watching the fight but not actively participating in it, and I can't say that I'm surprised.

I wish I had the strength and courage to support his decision, to let him go and allow him to make his own choices. I wish that I, like him, had the ability to follow him and fight by his side for the fight he believes in.

I wish I was able to fight by his side together; us against the world as Liz and Tony fight.

I wish I had the courage to do any of this without him by my side.

But I don't.

**Sam**

_Was it all worth it?_

I look at the distance from my place on the ground; the whole airport shattered and broken, the people that were previously there more so.

Liz and Tony surround an unconscious Rhodey, and I can hear their silent plea telling him to wake up.

The picture changes into one I'm so familiar with, the picture that haunts me every night as I go to bed. The picture that highlights Riley, and my inability to save my best friend.

This time, it was I that caused the damage. Me that broke Rhodey’s wings.

Rhodey won’t open his eyes.

Wanda can’t stand up on her feet.

Tony is begging for his best friend to open his eyes.

I'm about to join my friends to become a fugitive.

Bucky is still mentally unstable beyond repair.

Liz is crying. Crying for the man that treated her like a brother. Crying for the man who is her brother.

Crying for the man who she loved. The man who left on a plane and broke her heart.

_Was it all worth it?_

I recite the answer over and over in my head; the warning that was ringing my bells ever since the Accords were placed on that goddamn desk a couple of days ago.

_Was it all worth it?_

_No, it was not. It never was._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Natasha Vs Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “For what it's worth, probably not much. I'm glad SHIELD assigned me on your assessment six years ago.”

**Natasha versus Friendship**

**Bucky**

_This is wrong. This is all so wrong._

I don't know who he is, but I feel an unbearable amount of panic and worry when he spirals to the ground, the Iron Man suit following him, and even from the distance that I'm in, I know that Tony Stark will not be able to reach his friend in time. I can only sit here and pathetically hope that the suit Colonel Rhodes is encompassed in will end up becoming his saviour.

I used to be the kind of man that would have jumped out of this plane in a parachute at a speed much slower than the rate in which Rhodes is falling and zoomed the shit through the sky so that I would be able to find some sort of opportunity to grab onto his arm and save him. I used to be the man who would grab onto his arm even though I know I would have no chance of holding his weight, because I know that it would lessen the impact and slow us down so that Stark could save us.

I used to be a man who was proud of himself.

I turn my head so abruptly that I feel a sharp pain in my neck, but I keep my focus away from both Rhodes and Steve, opting to keep my eyes firmly trained towards the passenger seat. Steve grips his steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white and I know that if he grips any harder, we’ll be suffering the same fate as Rhodes.

Thinking of him again, seals my decision to do what is right after all this is over; after we find the Winter Soldiers.

I plan to turn myself in. The Winter Soldier killed so many people, hurt so many more and it is time I live up to what my hands did and face the truth. It's what I should have done in the beginning, running and hiding was yet another thing to be ashamed of, and I am done with being ashamed. I'm sick and tired of being unable to look in the mirror only to see a cold-blooded killer staring back. I'm tired of waking up in sweat from a nightmare or closing my eyes to see the face and smile of someone I killed. It's time I own up to what happened to me and let the people deal with it, maybe there’s a chance to tell them that I was mind controlled, maybe I can receive some help. Maybe they can remove Hydra from my head.

The plan swerves unnaturally to the right and Steve mumbles a quiet apology before the plane is engulfed in a terse silence again, complementing both out moody personas.

I feel bad that we left those people behind. Steve’s friends, the friends that supported me at the cost of their own lives. I feel terrible for just leaving them there like that, at the hands of Stark and his team.

Somehow, it is hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that Steve used to be teammates and friends with all of them. How is that possible when half of them so easily gave up and turned on him? I guess some of them were closer than others were, and the two teams that were built portrayed that closeness. Steve’s closest friends on his side and Stark’s closest friends on his side. I suppose since Steve is closest to the ones on his side, it makes it easy for him to attack the other side.

I look at the back of his head as we fly in silence and ask him, “What’s going to happen to your friends?”

He’s silent for a long moment and I think he isn’t going to answer.

But he shakes his head dismissingly after a sigh, “Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.”

_Steve Rogers, always carrying the entire world on his shoulders all by himself._

“I don't know if I'm worth all this Steve,” he’s my best friend, and talking to him has been the easiest thing in the world ever since we were little. I feel the words spill out before I can stop it.

Another long silence. His head turns partially to me and he tries to make eye contact while steering the aircraft at the same time. He fails. “What you did all those years,” he says, and he doesn’t need to finish because I already know what he’s going to say, “It wasn’t you. You didn't have a choice”

That’s no excuse. “I know. But I did it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that and so he just turns around and stares straight ahead, and I rack my brains to think of something that will clear this tension in the plane.

“So, Howard’s son?” I flinch at the poor choice of topic, both Howard and Tony Stark, but Steve just laughs weakly.

“Ya. They’re quite different.” He looks at me from the large rear-view mirror.

I think of the cocky smiles. The brilliant minds. The ability to insert classiness and humour into whatever situation. The ability to prevent things from bothering them too deeply. The incredible stubbornness.

“You mustn’t have spent too much time with Tony Stark then. He and his dad are practically the same person.”

My throat scratches slightly at the end of the sentence and looking at Steve’s pondering face through the mirror, I ask him,

“What are the chances you brought some water?” the tone of my voice sounds familiar and it takes only Steve’s slight smile to pinpoint that this is something Bucky would say.

“There’s a duffle bag on the floor to your right.” I look as instructed and find a medium sized black bag on the floor; I pull it close to me before yanking it up on the seat beside me and opening it.

“What do _you_ need bullets for?” I ask him, holding up several extra bullets in question.

He shrugs, “I thought you might need them.”

I look at him in mock shock, “What would _I_ need bullets for?” I wave my metal hand around to prove my point, forcing down my bile at the thought that he doesn’t need to be reminded of what I can do.

Instead, he just chuckles, sounding much lighter than before, “You do carry around a gun.”

I nod at his point, “It’s for emergency purposes.”

I shuffle through the bag once more and I’m about to close the bag after I take a long sip of water, when I spot something familiar slip out of the pockets of the jeans Steve was wearing and I put my water down to hold the item.

I laugh under my breath when I identify the object as the locket Steve used to carry around everywhere he went, tucking a picture of Peggy inside of the heart-shaped jewellery despite being teased by me during many occasions because of it. I find myself understanding the sentiment now, and I wonder what would have happened if I also had an object that held a picture of someone I loved. Would I have still been unable to return from the brink of being the Winter Solider?

I stop my wandering thoughts on feeling self-pity for myself and instead focus on Steve, who, despite all these years, still holds the locket that contains Peggy Carter’s picture.

I hold the locket up and clear my throat, and I see the way his eyes widen considerably when he sees me dangling it precariously in the air, “Buck, careful with that.”

His worry causes me to laugh and bring the necklace back to my lap, flipping it to the side to open it while telling him, “I remember this thing. You never used to let it go, still haven’t I guess. It had this picture of Pegg...”

The words are stuck in my throat as I open it, and I'm unable to look anywhere else, feel anything but the pounding guilt in my chest.

The pictures in the locket aren’t of Peggy Carter. They’re of Elizabeth Stark.

On the right side of the locket is a picture of her in a meadow. She looks considerably younger than she is now, and she’s smiling so brightly at the camera, I suspect she’s in mid-laugh. Her face isn’t haunted by the terrors of battle and I know that this picture was taken long before the battle of New York happened. Long before she met Steve.

However, it's the second picture that truly gets me. The second picture is placed on the other side of the locket; the photo covering the rusty clock underneath. It's taken quite recently, if the lack of folds and stains are any indication, and it was taken during the very first moments of the morning. The picture is one of Liz in bed, her hair all messy and her eyes still drowsy, one hand coming up to cover her eye, but failing to do so before the picture was taken. The same happy smile still graces her features but I only focus on her for a moment. There’s an arm cushioned under her head, the arm that drapes across her shoulders so that it can hold onto her hand and intertwine their fingers together, the same arm that is steering this aircraft at the moment.

When I finally look up from the photo, it's to Steve not making eye contact, and me finally being able to figure out why he looks so heartbroken. It's to me cursing myself for even thinking that Steve didn't care as much about Stark’s team when the most important person in his life was there.          

It's to me recognizing the small indications of love between the two of them that I have been a witness to but missed.

The way Steve, who would have kept running towards Stark’s team without letting anything come in his way, immediately stopped and stopped us when Liz flew right in the middle of both teams. The way neither of them directly fought with each other during this whole battle. The way Steve would falter when Liz got hurt, the way she would do the same when Steve got hurt. The way both of them had tears scaling their cheeks when Steve and I walked away from it all. The way Steve looks like he left his heart behind in Germany.

_This is wrong. This is all so wrong. Now more than ever._

**Natasha**

“Are you incapable for letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?” I regret the words just as it comes out, especially when Tony strikes back as if he’s been hit.

All this isn’t entirely his fault. It's not entirely my fault either. Letting Steve go was a choice that I made, and I don't regret it, even though I was desperately hoping that I wouldn’t see the look of betrayal in Tony’s eyes.

Everyone is in shambles. Steve’s team is God knows where probably getting some serious shit while their leader and his best friend are flying off to God knows where to try and take on a pack of supersoldiers by themselves. I've helped them to the best of my ability and the result is me having to go into hiding because the UN is out for my blood and the one person who trusted me is looking at me like I killed his cat.

Tony stares into the distance once again, his jaw clenched as a method to try to avoid saying something he’s going to regret. I also know that whatever it is, he won’t have enough control to stop them and that it's going to cause both of us permanent damage. I probably should leave now. We ended things as bad as it can get.

“Hey Tony,” I snap my head around at the voice to see Liz walking towards us, her eyes trained on the papers in hand.

“I need you to sign these papers for Rhodey’s—” She comes to a full stop when she notices me standing there, and there’s an unreadable expression on her face.

After being friends with her for the past couple of years, I’ve learned that you only read what Elizabeth Stark wants you to read about her. She’s an openly expressive person because she’s comfortable in her own skin and strong enough to let others know what she’s feeling. Today, most of today, her face has been in a cool mask, betraying nothing about the inner turmoil she must be in.

Her face then morphs into one of shock and I wonder if I've lost her too. She and I have had so many past grievances; the report I wrote on her brother, the portal I closed on her brother, the whole SHIELD collapsing fiasco that I never told her about and I wonder if this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I wonder if this is the moment when she finally decides that she’s tired of my screw-ups; that I'm not worth this anymore.

“What are you doing here?” Her eyes are wide with panic and for a second I do too because she looks scared.

_She can't possibly be scared of me._

I must be getting soft; I must be losing some of my skill, because Tony registers the panic in my face, the panic that I always manage to hide.  He places a hand on my shoulder, “What she means is that you shouldn’t be here. Ross knows about what you did and he’s coming for you.”

I can't stop the relieved breath that I release, and Liz hands Tony a set of papers before facing me, “Yes, I'm...slightly pissed that you let Steve go because now we need to find him all over again and it's not going to be easy since the UN has orders to shoot on sight. That doesn’t mean I'm going to disown you, Nat.”

I stare at her, a sardonic smile still on my face, because I know she’s trying to prolong the inevitable, “This is still goodbye isn’t it?”

Liz looks on helplessly, and I know that with all her power, she is unable to do anything to fix things this time. It’s fine. I know what I signed up for when I let Steve go, this is the price I need to pay.

An awkward cough comes in the form on Tony and I stare at him to see him shifting from foot to foot, an action that was heavily done that day he improved all our suits and gears. “I...um...there’s a Helicopter waiting for you at the airport. Black with gold stripes has a large S on it. It’s untraceable but you obviously need to pilot it yourself.”

I stare at him in shock, trying to think of something to say but ultimately coming up with nothing.

Liz continues to fester the tears I'm trying so hard to hold in, “I got Pepper to pack a suitcase for you, has all your favourites. And there’s cash in there, as well as a credit card programmed with a different identity. You’ll be good to go for the first month.”

There are half moons on the palm of my hands in an attempt to prevent my tears from falling out. I don't remember the last time I cried, and I don't plan to do it anytime soon.  Instead, I allow myself one second of weakness as I pull my best friend into a hug, trying to relay all my thanks to her through a simple sentence, “I'm going to miss you.”

She hugs me back with ferocity, “I'm going to fix this Nat. We’re going to fix this. I promise.”

Her words confirm the suspicion that’s been building up inside my head since this whole thing started (was it only a couple of days ago?) and I look between the two Starks, the pieces finally starting to make sense.

“You don't plan on following the Accords,” I say with shock.

Liz controls her face, but Tony’s sheepish shrug gives it away, and Liz sighs before letting her brother explain, “We do. I for one, genuinely support taking accountability for our actions. We can't keep hiding behind our superhero personas. It isn’t fair to the world.”

Liz continues, finishing her brother’s trail of thought in that fascinating way of theirs, “But the whole Ross keeping us under our thumb thing is bullshit. We’re going to try to break out from that. So that we can have our freedom, not be someone’s slave and still make the people feel safe and happy at the same time.”

_Why didn't you just tell us this before?_

Stark reads the silent question, “We were being watched. The only private time we had before someone was onto us was during that meeting right after we got the Accords.”

“You know the meeting that Steve and Sam left halfway, Wanda closed herself off into her room, and everyone walked away? _That_ _meeting_. It was only me and Tony left, and then we didn't have time to sit down and talk somewhere private after because we all know the shitty story that took place later,” Liz bitterly tells me, allowing me to see how much this has affected her. How much this is going to affect her for a long time.

“Boss,” I recognize Jarvis’ voice, and the AI doesn’t wait for permission until he continues, “Ross has sent some men heading your way.”

I recognize that as my cue to leave, and I hug Liz one more time, genuinely wondering if it’ll be my last. Wondering where I went wrong.

And as I walk past Tony, something makes me stop.

He looks at me curiously when I face him and I walk away before I can see his reaction after I say,

“For what it's worth, probably not much. I'm glad SHIELD assigned me on your assessment six years ago.”

And I walk away from the only good thing in my life. The only things preventing the blood on my ledger from spreading.

**Liz**

“Friday, give me a visual copy of the x-ray scans please,” I ask my AI even as I'm zooming the digital scan in order to better see the injuries on Rhodey’s spine. Never have I thought that in the end, he’d be the one in the hospital.

The doorknob rattles after a knock and I invite whoever it is in, and stone my gaze when I see the King of Wakanda, who is presumably here regarding the disappearance of Natasha.

“Ms.Stark,” He smiles warmly at me, and I smile back. We haven’t talked much apart from the occasional information about Barnes or battle tactics.

“You need something,” It's a statement, not meant with any animosity, but rather one of genuine curiosity as to why he would approach me instead of my brother, who will give T’Challa a better chance of finding Nat.

“Ms. Romanoff has disappeared after her betrayal,” He says, placing his hands behind his back, a good indication of suspicion as he looks around the room as if I hid Nat in my closet or something.

I school my expression to give nothing away, and I suppose the action itself did, “Oh?”

He narrows his eyes accusingly, “Whose side are you really on Ms. Stark?”

I feel the start of a laugh start to overtake me, blending in with the anger as I take a step forward, meeting him head-on, “Look, I get it. You lost your dad. It hurts. You’d do anything to get him back but that isn’t an option so avenging his death is the next best thing...”

“You don't know how—” My blatant words hurt him and I twist my mouth into a thin line to try and prevent myself from rambling an apology, because he needs to hear this.

“I know all too well how it feels to lose a parent. I lost two in one day. It's not easy and I would anything to bring them back. But T’Challa, they’re gone. Killing Bucky isn’t going to bring your dad back. Your dad wouldn’t want you to do this.”

He shakes his head, stepping back and I know that my words haven’t gotten through to him yet, “No, you don't understand. Your parents died in an accident. Mine was brutally murdered. That kind of pain doesn’t go away.”

I sigh in defeat, “I don't know what to say.”

He nods in understanding, “I must do what needs to be done. I'm sorry.”

And he walks out, the slamming of the door echoing through the plain room I'm stuck in and suddenly the weight on my neck feels so much heavier than it did a few moments ago.

Gently unclasping the delicate locket I received for my thirteenth birthday, I open the heart, staring at the two pictures of my family.

One is of Mom, Dad, Tony and I, during a family barbeque. I'm perched on my father’s shoulders, bending down to give a kiss to my brother, while my mom has him in a tight embrace. Tony’s head rests on my dad’s shoulder in order to give me better access to his cheek and the photo was taken just as I plopped a sloppy one on my brother’s cheekbone, unable to reach anywhere else. I run my thumb along the smiles on my parents’ faces, knowing that I would do absolutely anything just to see them once more.

And before I can move onto the next picture, my phone blares vigorously, an electric song that signifies Tony.

He speaks right as I answer the call, “I'm sending you a pair of coordinates. Get your ass over here and make sure no one sees you.”

And the next thing I know is that I'm flying to God knows where to do God knows what because that is just what my life is.

An absolute mess.

 

 

 


	10. Captain America Vs Iron Man

**Captain America versus Iron Man**

Here’s the thing about war. No one ever really wins. The whole prospect of victor and loser is just a smokescreen to hide the harsh reality of what war really entails. Soldiers come back home with a broken conscious, a broken mind; a broken heart. Lives are lost, sanity is forgotten, love is unrecognizable, and all that is left over is a shell of a human being; a person that was once full of life but is now stuck in the ever-lasting loop of destruction and death that they cannot leave.

Here’s the thing about war; you will always lose.        

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark did not realize this as the latter barges into the cold Siberian bunker; hoping for a chance to fix things with the hero he spent his childhood worshipping.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s good to see you, Tony,” He meant it. Steve Rogers really did. He didn't know when and how, but what he did know was that the intelligent (intelligent doesn’t even cut it) billionaire had become one of his best friends, and he had never wanted to lose that.

Tony Stark returns the sentiment, and he loses his playful tone to genuinely tell his teammate, his friend, “You too, Cap.”

Bucky Barnes watches the interaction with a rapid fascination. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet and he has battled a series of superheroes led by Stark, learnt that Steve was in love with Stark’s sister (who is also a Stark), and now the man himself walks into the room and calls a truce with his best friend and he’s supposed to drop the gun down and braid his hair? Not happening.

So even though his gun is down by his side after Steve gestures for him to do so, his thumb is placed firmly at the trigger, in case this is all an elaborate trap to get to him and Steve. He doesn’t think his machine gun would do much good against whatever Stark’s suit is made up of, but he can damn well bet that he can hold the billionaire off until Steve gets the window to escape and save his friends.

“We need to go.” Steve implores impatiently. The main goal was to get here before Zemo and while Tony’s presence is more than a good thing, he needs to get to the Winter Soldiers now.

But the philanthropist shakes his head in refusal, “We’re waiting on someone.”

Steve vaguely sees Bucky aim his gun at Stark once again from his peripheral vision and he hisses out through clenched teeth, “I thought you said no one knows.”

“No, I said Ross doesn’t know,” Tony corrects, “Besides, I'm sure you wouldn’t mind this particular person making an entrance.”

And just as the words are being said, Elizabeth Stark walks into the room, changed into a new suit, purple and blue with just enough black to make it look lethal, her entire attention focused on the sleek device in her hands, trying to figure out precisely where she is and what relevance it has to her.

“Tony, I have had the worst day of my entire life and I really just want to go home, curl up into a ball with some whisky and just cry, so the sooner you plan on telling me what the hell I'm doing in some deserted Siberian Bunker, the sooner I can go home and do all those things preferably in the same—” The exact moment Liz sees Steve and his partner in crime is the exact moment she stops speaking and stumbles slightly, her mouth open in a way that would be considered comical were it not for the heartbreaking undertone.

The young doctor stares at the superhero for a moment before she turns towards her brother, “What’s going on?” her voice is monotone, completely devoid of life compared to how it sounded a couple of minutes ago.

Steve’s hands clench painfully at his side. A few days ago, he was chasing this woman around their apartment and now she won’t even look at him. He barely acknowledges Bucky’s hand on his shoulder in the form of support. His childhood friend has been giving him the sympathetic glance ever since he figured out about his feelings for Liz and quite frankly, he’s tired of it.

“We’re helping Rogers stop the Winter Soldier,” Tony tells his sister as a matter of fact, and it's during moments like these; when Tony’s voice would take on an authoritative form, that most people stop having difficulty picturing him as an older brother and not the other way around.

The two siblings share a look, somehow managing to have a whole conversation in that one stare, and based on Liz’s obvious grumble and look of exasperation, Tony evidently wins the argument, and, blowing a loose strand of hair off her face, she grumbles, “Fine, lead the way.”

The mechanical whirring of the Iron Man mask jolting itself into place is the only source of sound in the quiet eerie bunker, and Steve doesn’t miss the pointed look the older Stark gives him, tilting his head towards Liz, who, despite her unbothered stance, is obviously hiding a whole lot of hurt.

Before they can exit the entrance of the bunker, Steve grabs a hold of Liz’s hand, calling out her name softly.

She pulls back as if she’s been burnt, and Steve thinks he feels the same way when the woman he is madly in love with, cradles her hand as if he fractured it, biting out the words, “Don’t.”

                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a child, Elizabeth Stark had one too many role models; Maria Stark, Howard Stark, Edwin Jarvis, Anna Jarvis, The Carters among many others. Each of them inflicted their own set of values and morals and shaped her into the person she is right now; the person she nor anyone wants to change. One of these important morals and values was forgiveness. Anyone who knew Elizabeth Stark knew that she was the person who was capable of giving others second, third, and fourth chances as long as she felt they deserved it (so far, a day where someone didn't deserve forgiveness hasn’t come yet).

So standing here, the man who still holds her heart in front of her, looking at her with such regret and guilt, Liz cannot help but speed up her strides as she follows her brother and Steve through the disgusting bunker, so that her shoulders brush his, causing him to look at her with vulnerability that tugs at her heartstrings.

“We can talk about us after this is over,” She phrases the statement as a question, her lips stretching into a tentative smile to reassure the Captain that she does not have a bad confrontation in mind.

Steve smiles back at her, his heart soaring in happiness, the chill he felt in his bones since he left the airport and Liz behind slowly seeping out through every breath, every smile.

Led by Iron Man, the four walk into the open dingy room. Liz doesn’t hide her obvious distaste as she looks at the caked walls, broken ceiling and shattered glass. Bucky just hides his smile. She, inarguably, is humble in all the ways that matter, but he can't help but be amused at Elizabeth’s Stark’s discomfort and unfamiliarity to the room she walks into, while for him, this is close to luxury. He’s had worse during these years in the run.

“I’ve got heat signatures,” The modified voice of the Iron Man suit startles Steve, but he keeps a lid on it. A lot is depending on him at the moment, and the last thing he needs to do is startle himself and startle Buck and cause another disaster before completely fixing this one.   

“How many?” He asks Tony, immediately after he regains his composure, unknown to anyone but Liz, who has to hide her first smile in 48 hours.

Instead, she focuses on the readings displayed in front of her own screen, through her contact lenses and frowns in confusion at data, “One?”

Waving his gun around the room in paranoia, Bucky feels his eyebrows constricting to whole new levels, one doesn’t sound right. There should be a whole lot more than one. He’s fought so many, mourned for so many.  

The four walk into the room, completely alert, the only source of light coming from Tony Stark’s repulsor and Elizabeth Stark’s yarn of lightning. They each stare in different directions as the lights come on, bathing the room in an almost dirty yellow, and Liz recognizes the synchronized beeping; she hears it every single day.

“They’re dead,” She breathes out, barely a whisper, but the words echo and it reaches the ears of everyone in the room, not excluding the King of Wakanda.

Tony’s heart pounds once the automated voice comes back on, and he stares at his sister, who is also undoubtedly trying to locate the source of the terribly automated voice, “if it's any comfort, they died in their sleep.”

Tony can almost picture his sister’s look of angered disbelief at the prospect of that even remotely being enough to comfort her, but he determinedly runs scans again, Jarvis’ drive working non-stop. His sister takes a couple of steps towards the nearest Winter Soldier and he follows her, leaving Rogers and Barnes as they venture to the opposite side of the room, presumably looking at the same thing.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” Up close, the billionaires can see the single shot wound to the head, and Tony can see his sister’s nails start to pierce her palm in an effort to regain her emotions and it's during these moments that he wishes that Thor didn't tell Liz that she couldn’t burn or shock herself with her powers because they are tethered to her and won’t willingly hurt her. This way, she’d still have her gloves on.

The voice comes back on, the slight emotion in them confirming everyone’s thoughts; someone else is in here. “I'm grateful to them though. They brought you here.”

The lights shut dramatically, and the room is bathed in a momentary darkness before everyone’s focus is directed towards the man behind the glass. The same man both Bucky Barnes and Liz recognize and the Winter Solider gives Fyra a reassuring shrug, as if to tell her that leaving him alone with the fake therapist wasn’t her fault.

Steve, however, isn’t in control of his fear and anger as much as he thinks he is. He swings his shield at the sturdy wall and, as expected, the circular disk comes flying back as if it were just a mere Frisbee instead of Wakanda’s vibranium.

“Please Captain, The Soviets built this chamber to withstand a launch blast of UR-100 rockets.” Zemo doesn’t seem the slightest bit unfazed and it starts to bug Tony.

“I’m Betting I Can Beat That!” The engineer says, in a voice that barely controls his fear.

“Oh, I'm sure you could Mr. Stark, given time.”

Liz blows an angry breath, but it doesn’t help, and she sing-songs loud enough for everyone to hear, “And I'm sure you’ll only be in a coma for the rest of your life if I decide to blow up that wall.”

For the first time, Bucky sees a slight hesitance Zemo’s face, and he thanks whoever the hell he’s supposed to thank that Tony Stark decided to bring himself and his sister to make amends.

“You killed innocent people in Vienna, just to bring us here.”

The truth, previously known by only five of the six people in that room is now known by all, and T’Challa cannot contain the ringing in his ears and the plaguing guilt as he remembers the last words he said to Elizabeth Stark before both she and he left. Or more accurately, the last words she said to him.

_Your father would have never wanted this._

Back in the room, Zemo faces off against Steve, who stands right in front of the glass wall that separates him and the sociopath. Liz’s fingers sparks with electricity, the energy threatening to burst out as it (somehow) senses Fyra’s fear. She’s always had an inkling of suspicion about it, but now as she tries to get rid of the crackling electricity, she knows that these powers, whatever they may be, are a life of their own, has a soul of their own. The thought should scare her but it doesn’t, not when the very thing has been protecting and guarding Liz her whole life, as if its sole purpose was to do just that.

“I thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you, I followed you, but now that you’re standing here, I just realized; there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes.” his chuckle is barely audible and he continues, “How nice to find a flaw.”

Behind him, Steve can hear Liz snort in bewilderment and exclaim, “Flaw?” under her breath and for the first time today, he can recognize Elizabeth Stark, the woman who has no brain to mouth filter and has grown to own it proudly.

But instead, he focuses on the man in front of him, the manic who has caused so much hurt, the manic whose accent he can easily pinpoint, “You’re Sokovian. Is that was this is about?”

He shakes his head, answers with a cold numbness that most sociopaths are associated with, “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I'm here because I made a promise.”

Liz, curiosity fully piqued proceeds to make a step forward, questions itching to be answered, but the cold metal of the Iron Man suit stops her. Her brother shakes his head and the actions cause the young doctor to keep her feet planted in place.

“You lost someone,” Liz can't help the sympathetic undertone that occupies her statement. She’s woken up with nightmares and spent the whole day in grief for the unnamed people that were lost to their loved ones. She spent hours holed up in the bathroom crying her heart out for them until there were no more tears left to shed for the day.

So her heart reaches out to the man behind the glass for a moment as he says, “I lost everyone. And so will you” And then the moment is gone.

His focus is diverted from Steve and he looks down, presses a single button, and ruins everyone’s life.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here’s the thing about war. No one ever really wins. There’s always a tipping point. The point where you stop and realize that you’ve signed your soul to the devil and there is no coming back. There is nothing you can do to save yourself anymore. There is always one moment, one word, one action, one breath that changes everything.

That one moment that defines the beginning of your loss.

Here’s the thing about war. You always lose.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark found their tipping point in a single press of a button and in a single one-minute video.

                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony and Elizabeth Stark were, and can be said to always be one of the smartest people in any room. Both had grown up walking into classrooms filled with kids much older than themselves and had a countless amount of awards and trophies that neither bothered to frame. Regardless, neither recognized the odd letters on the ancient T.V screen but watched with avid curiosity as the black and white reel began to come to life.

                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since he was old enough to understand, T’Challa was groomed into being the future king of Wakanda, and was taught everything he needed to know, all the traits he would need to possess.

One of those traits was sensibility. Another was compassion. Both combined together made a wonderful king. Since that wretched day in Vienna, T’Challa had managed to lose his compassion and his ability to see things straight. The only thing that was left was his thirst for vengeance and his anger; the two emotions that his father despised.

It's coming back to him now. The pain, grief, suffering. He’s finally feeling the inexplicable sorrow of losing a parent; of losing a part of your whole.

It’s coming back to him as he watches Tony and Elizabeth Stark look at their parents be brutally murdered, and if he didn't regret telling Liz that she doesn’t understand what losing his father felt like, he sure does now.

And he will regret the decision he makes then, for the rest of his life; he will spend all of eternity wondering what would have changed suppose he planted his feet to the ground and stayed there to witness the aftermath, partake in the events after the life-changing video. Instead, he runs out of the central control room, out into the freezing cold, the events of the past few days finally reaching him and he does his own kind of breaking in front of the Siberian bunker, completely oblivious to all that had happened after he left.

The decision he will spend his entire life regretting.

                                                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s crying. She doesn’t know it. But Steve knows that he will have nightmares of Elizabeth Stark’s heartbreaking sobs echoing through the Siberian Bunker every night for the rest of his life. Tony’s face remains impassive, but judging by the painful clenching in his jaw, Steve knows he is anything but. He looks over to Bucky who is lost in his own nightmare and has the overwhelming need to run to his side and protect him. Everything he had feared would happen is happening. In the worst possible way, much worse than what he had expected.

                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mahatma Gandhi said that the future depends on what we do in the present. There are a thousand different ways the aftermath of the video could have played out; a million different choices each of the four individuals could have made, a plethora of things that could have been said, a countless amount of outcomes.

However, the tipping point that lost the so-called ‘civil war’ happened when Tony Stark, in his anger filled haste made a movement to attack his parents’ killer and when Steve Rogers, in his haste to protect his friend once more, grabbed the red and gold suit, preventing him from moving any further.

Liz, stays frozen, staring at the black screen of the TV, tears streaming freely from her eyes, her posture stiff and cold, lifeless and dead, so very opposite of the woman herself.

“Tony, Tony,” Steve implores with his teammate, his voice taking on a note of desperation. He knows how this ends. He’s dreamt it every single night.

And that action, that single action, tips the scales in no one’s favour, because that one action, that one implore, gives away everything Steve has managed to hide for the better part of almost two years.

By some divine miracle, Liz manages to keep herself from exploding and destroying the entire country by looking at her brother, who has surely fallen over the edge and, unclenching her tightly woven jaw, hisses out at Steve, “You knew?”

She knows the answer before he says it, if his glassy eyes are any indication, but whatever sympathy she had for the man is long gone as her heart cracks through the middle when he says, “Yes.”

And then, the scales tip, even more, when Tony takes a giant step back, his anger building up to extremes, and with a powerful thrust of his repulsor, his metal hand makes contact with the Captain’s jaw, causing him to fall on the ground and stay there for a few moments.

                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky has his gun drawn out and ready to shoot, but find himself unable to when he pulls the trigger, his hand turning mind-numbingly cold. He turns towards Liz, who was standing still and quiet in shock the entire time but now has the dangerous fire in her eyes, and a kind of ice in her heart Bucky has never seen before.

But some part of him, the part he not so affectionately calls the Winter Soldier comes back to life. Because while Bucky may be in control of all his emotions, and can remember every single thing that has happened to him ever since he was a child, he knows that this fuelling anger and sick satisfaction isn’t himself at all.

But the Winter Soldier has always been strong, he’s always managed to overtake Bucky Barnes and posses every inch of his mind until there was no trace of himself left in his own body. So while The Winter Soldier isn’t in control right now, the Hydra based killer most certainly influences him, especially when he hauls the large, heavy machine gun with incredible force at the brown-haired woman (the only woman in the room actually) and charges towards her brother.

Tony Stark puts up a fight, something he couldn’t have said back when they were fighting in Berlin. But the man can fight now, and as Bucky’s being held by the throat and whisked into the air, he can vaguely remember the Winter Soldier being impressed when he shot a gun at the billionaire, only to be met with resistance in the form of his glasses.

As for Steve Rogers, the impact of Tony Stark’s punch kept him on the ground for a good chunk of time, before he manages to get himself up. He gets up on the ground just in time to see the metal leg of Iron Man pin Bucky to the ground, and before his best friend can receive a particularly hurtful punch, he is running towards the suit, ramming into him with such a powerful impact that it sends the metal man stumbling a few feet back.  

The movement allows Bucky to get back up, against his protesting muscles and he closes his metal hand into a fist, ready to punch the distracted genius. The Winter Soldier’s hard drive is programmed too deeply into his skull and he knows it. The thoughts and impulses that float through his brain are an indication of the fact.

But before he can strike the red and gold clad superhero, the familiar mind-numbing cold washes over him again and he turns to spot Elizabeth Stark, who removed herself from the fight for a few seconds to grab the video of her parents and trap it in an ice block for further use. And it's true that Liz was the only person apart from Steve who talked and interacted with Bucky as if he were any other human being, but at the moment, the same woman is preventing him from getting to Steve and that is something he and his anger cannot handle.

Charging towards her, he uses his iced hand to punch her, a punch she so easily dodges. She seems surprised at his level of functionality with a frozen hand, but she doesn’t understand that he’s been frozen since he fell off a train that fated day.

He fights in a way he has never done before, and she matches his every kick, punch and strike with her own. He’s never seen anyone fight like her, with so much emotion and skill, with so much power coursing through her veins, but the absence of it until it is absolutely necessary. She doesn’t fight methodically; there is no pattern to her moves. Her actions are as wild and as impulsive as she is, and it makes taking her on that much more difficult. In the background, he can hear Steve struggling with Tony and Buck headbutts his opponent, not giving her the opportunity to recover before sending a harsh blow to her stomach, a blow that causes her to go flying across the other side of the room.

He only learns what a terrible idea that was a moment later. 

See, here’s the thing about Tony Stark. He has the capacity to think straight under the direst of circumstances, including when seeing his parents be brutally murdered by the very presence in the room; he just doesn’t because he’s angry and petty and so very betrayed. Still, he has a lid on his anger. He’s not blowing the entire place up into shambles and to him, that’s a win.

Bring his sister into the equation and hurt her, well,prepare for any trace of thinking straight to be blown out the window.

So when he sees his sister go flying through the air in a not so graceful manner, it only takes a click of a button to send the large chrysalis thingies to go crashing everywhere, the tech on Liz’s locket opening under Tony’s electronic command and dispersing an impenetrable wall that shields her from the falling objects. Not so much him though. 

It doesn’t matter regardless, because where Liz is Tony’s weakness, Tony is also Liz’s. Breaking out of the azure shell, she sends the circular orb to her brother, and watches with satisfaction as the heavy beams bounce off the round cocoon made by her powers. It's then, just as one of the containers holding a dead Winter Soldier falls over her head, that she screams in shock before hurrying to protect herself.

The scream stops Steve, who has the escape plan playing out spectacularly and he turns around at the familiar voice of distress. The long-haired brunette has an ice shield on the top of her head created by one hand, while the other creates a wave of water that forms into a bubble, each one holding the dead Winter Soldiers. Even when a building is collapsing around her, she’s still saving people.

Steve should have known better. One cannot even imagine staying the same after seeing such a tragedy happen right before their eyes. The old Elizabeth Stark, the one who found her family in a dysfunctional team of superheroes and love in a super soldier would have put a stop to the whole fight and demanded reasonable thinking. This Elizabeth Stark, the one defined by the love of her life’s broken promises, lies, and the seeing of her parents’ murder, flings each and every dead body collected, at Steve, the water suddenly turning into raging fire for a better impact.

                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here’s the thing about war. You never win. There is always a fight. Always a battle. A battle that never ends. It's messy, and bloody, and never worth it. The fight intertwines in a method where it is impossible to distinguish one side from the other; the enemy to the hero. It only lasts for an hour, maybe two, but it feels like days. Halfway into the fight, your bones are weary; you’re on the verge of collapsing but there’s that anger in you. The anger that makes you keep going, the angry that shuts down every thinking mechanism you have and pours all your attention into the war; into the fight.

Here’s the thing about war. You always lose.

The fight never stops.

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers didn't realize that as they fought in the wretched bunker in Siberia, throwing punches and drawing blood.

It's not a long battle. Between Afghanistan and the battle of New York and Sokovia, Tony has had worse. He’s used to the feeling of exhaustion, the pain from sharp wounds, and the throb in his skull.

He’s not used to this feeling of hurt. So much hurt. He’s not prepared for the great pang of guilt that overwhelms him every time he punches Steve Rogers; the man he learned to call a friend and partner, the man that his little sister loves to bits.  

Behind them plays another battle, between the Winter Solider and Liz. He’s trying to get to Steve to save him, and she’s trying to prevent the former Hydra Soldier from getting to her brother. After what she saw, she’ll be damned if Barnes goes anywhere near her family.

He’s been fighting for decades and she’s been fighting since she was six, but her powers give her the advantage.

She’s been devoting a solid three hours every single day into researching and learning more about her powers and the extent of their usage. She’s already established that somehow, they’re connected to the Infinity Stones Thor rants about, the stone that lies on Vision’s forehead and fuels Wanda and Pietro’s power.

She can control them better now. She can now fight Bucky Barnes, hold him down on the ground, have a large blue electric rope break out of the ground, and wrap itself around the former Sergeant. She’s never been violent by nature; she’s sworn an oath to protect all life and so far, with an exception of a few aliens, she’s lived by that code.

But right now, at this moment, her morals, code and values fly out the window as she pins Barnes down, watching him struggle the way her mother did, the way her father fought for his life, fought for their life. He deprived her of her parents. He deprived her parents of the opportunity to see her and Tony grow, to watch their son save the world not only with his suits, but also with his mind. He singlehandedly destroyed her family and right now, she cannot see anything beyond that.

(It's only months later, after watching the video on the cassette 187 times, that she’s able to point out the subtle differences between the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes; human and Hydra. By that time, it's too late.)

The electricity crackles and she mentally calms herself so that the ropes won’t shock the man; because that is what he is, a man, and if Liz keeps reminding herself that, she’ll be fine.

But just as she mentally regains herself, she loses it, because the Captain, in an unsuccessful attempt at saving his friend while taking on Tony, throws his shield at Liz, the vibranium hitting her abdomen and sending her crashing into the ground. 

What was once two fights between four people then becomes one fight between four; the cracks that slowly break apart a team defined by trust, blood, and hardship becoming more prominent than ever.

However, there is always more to everything than what meets the eye. Steve Rogers maybe be violently protecting his friend, but he’ll be damned if one drop of blood leaves Elizabeth Stark’s body because of him. Tony Stark may be angry, but he has his repulsors and guns lowered to minimal damage, he’s not going to have more blood on his hands. Bucky is in the middle of his own mental battle between the person he is and the person Hydra engraved into his system. His movements are hesitant and scared and an exact representation of the inner turmoil in his head at the moment. And Liz, Liz, for the life of her, doesn’t have it in herself to hurt anyone, not the man she is still so in love with and certainly not the man who she, in some small part in the back of her head,  knows is innocent in all this.

However, all of this changes when Steve gets angry. When Tony does too. When the anger turns its ugly head, and now, the punches are directed at each other, for the sole purpose of injuring and drawing blood. All of a sudden, Steve has Tony on the ground, pounding into his chest with his fists again and again.

He’s tired, he’s scared, and he’s angry. His sole purpose is to protect Bucky, but somewhere along the way, both their anger manifested into something impulsive and destructive; something regrettable.

Liz, who was half-heartedly trying to keep Bucky away from her brother, panics when she sees the Captain punching the life out of Tony. She’s fought Steve before; their first meeting was based off his ability to break a punching bag, and she knows how strong he is; how much damage he can inflict with just a single punch.

And in her panic, she forgets her powers. She completely disregards the sparking electricity that engulfs her figure and the red flame that dances in her irises; two things she cannot control.

Bucky, however, sees it and now, he’s the one panicking. He knows that Elizabeth Stark is in love with his best friend, but he also knows that she loves her brother more, and so when Liz rushes to her brother, her entire form covered in a multitude of colours, Bucky, in fear for Steve, jumps in the air and tackles her to the ground, keeping her there as Steve punches Tony. His metal arm constricts oddly, in an effort to pull her back as she thrashes wildly, her silent struggles starting to become screams and pleas.

“Stop! Stop! Stop it! Steve, you’re hurting him!” Liz is crying freely now, her tears multiplying with every dent that is made in the red and gold suit she helped make two weeks ago.

Steve can feel his own tears building up, his eyes burning with the effort of trying to rein them in. The rushing in his ears and the pounding of his heart is too much to bear as Liz continues to brokenly sob and struggle against the Winter Solider keeping her on the ground, “Please Steve. I'm begging you. Stop it! Let him go.”

And Steve snaps. The frustration and tension that has been building up ever since Nick Fury showed up in his apartment two years ago finally blows apart in the worst possible way.

                                                                                                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Here’s the thing about war. You never win. Both teams, both armies, both sides, regardless of right or wrong, hero and villain; they all go with a blast. The fight ends explosively, not a single drop of peace present. The explosion breaks everything apart, kills so many people, ruins so many more, but no one cares. It never matters. Because at the end of the day, the explosion finishes the battle, finalizes the end, and everyone gets to go home.

But here’s the thing about war. No one ever wins. The explosion does nothing but destruct.

In this case, Elizabeth Maria Stark created an explosion that not only broke apart the Avengers, but also caught the attention of the one who placed a bounty on her head the second she was born.

It all happened in a matter of seconds; Steve Rogers, in his angered haze, lifts his vibranium shield into the air, positions it right above Tony who brings his hands up over his face in an attempt to prevent any fatal damages to his brain.

Liz. She screams. Louder than ever before, her entire body wracking with fear, she screams.

And in six different locations, six different people, five different planets watch in awe as for the first time since the beginning of the universe, the Infinity Stones began to act up.

Loki, whose dedicated small fragments of his day to make sure the Tesseract was still present, smirks knowingly when the blue cube levitates in the air before falling back after releasing a strong force field that knocks him out of his feet.

Vision screams in pain when he is lifted off the ground, the gem on his head shining brightly, and Pepper rushes to him, only to fall back due to the yellow force field, somehow able to hear Vision’s croak of a name, “Liz.”

Stephan Strange is forced to open the Eye of Agamotto as the Time Stone lifts itself into the air and sends a large wave of green, shattering the large window and knocking himself and Wong off their feet, before the Stone gently returns into the eye, and the world is still once more.

The collector runs into his treasure room, looking at the destruction the red barrier of energy caused, and finds that for the first time since it came to his possession, the liquid of the Aether is sizzling no longer, but is rather calm and delicate.

In Xander, the Nova Corps’ attempt to shield themselves from the blast of the purple energy is futile, as Irani Rael rushes into her chambers, flipping through the book her great-grandfather passed along, finally pinpointing the reason for the activity. The Infinity Stone does not belong to them. It's trying to find its way back to its owner.

In Vormir, the Red Skull watches in fear, as the soul stone presents itself for the first time since he’s been here, rising out of the ashes only to collapse back again with a great burst of power that tosses his liquefied form to the ground, and he knows, he knows, that the keeper of the Stones has finally arrived to take back what is theirs.

And it's a marvel to see. The six different powers, the six different colours, the six different entities zoom through the skies at a speed incomparable to anything before taking their place side by side, surrounding Elizabeth Stark and erupting into a large wave of pure energy that causes Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Helmut Zemo, T’Challa and all of Siberia to crash into the ground, the entire region falling into darkness.

All in a matter of seconds. With a single scream from Elizabeth Stark.

She crawls over to her brother, who is knocked unconscious and checks for a pulse, breathing in relief when she can feel the steady patter of her brother’s heart.

It gives Steve enough time to summon the rest of whatever strength he has left to help Bucky up and hold onto him; the blast protected Liz (as her powers always do) and therefore protected the ones near her vicinity to some extent.

Together, they walk right behind a quiet Liz, her head resting on Tony’s chest.

Steve calls out to her,

“Liz,”

In a flash, she’s up on her foot, her hands raised protectively in front of her, her eyes completely purple and swirls of red, blue, yellow, green, orange, and purple encompassing her entire figure. Steve has never seen her so angry, so dangerous before, and for the first time in his entire life, he’s scared of Elizabeth Stark.

“Liz,” he tries again, trying to change this nightmare; trying to fix things one more time.

The next thing he knows is the brutal pain of Liz’s palm coming in contact with his cheek, an electric shock leaving its wake, the slap resonating through the fried Bunker. Steve stands there shocked, staring at the woman in front of him, feeling all the warmth slip away from his body at the ice-cold gaze of the woman he loves.

She takes a step closer to him, her eyes still purple, and up close he can see streaks of red and blue inside of them, she steps forward until she’s almost toe to toe with him and in a voice so dead and broken and chilling, she says,

“You’re going to leave. And you’re never going to come back. Because the next time I see you, Steve Rogers, I'm going to kill you.”

He knows she doesn’t mean it. He knows she’ll regret saying it as soon as she gets a good night sleep. He knows that she is incapable of any sort of harm to anyone. But still, the words hurt more than anything in the world did. It hurts more than gunshot wounds, and knife stabs. It hurts more than watching his friend try to kill him and watching his friends die. It hurts more than falling into ice and waking up 50 years later.

And it's the hurt that allows him to turn away from Liz’s tear-stained face and walk away, tune out the single sob he hears and climb onto the jet and fly away, never looking back.

This isn’t his nightmare. It's worse.

 

 

 

 

Here’s the thing about war. It slowly picks your soul apart until there is nothing left of it. Here’s the thing about war.

You always lose.

You don't realize it. You may go home safe and sound with both arms and all ten toes. Your eyes might still be able to see and your ears can still hear. It's only after you wake up drenched in sweat at twelve a.m in the morning and flinch violently when your three years old daughter tackles you into a hug that you realize that you’ve lost.

The revelation may come anywhere. During a private dinner with your husband and you grip the glass so tightly it shatters. Taking a relaxing bath at home before you have the sudden urge to go under and never come back. Walking up the steps to church and being unable to breathe due to the onslaught of memories of the ones you called brother; the same ones who died bleeding in your arms. You realize you lost the war; anywhere, then everywhere.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark realized it in a cold deserted Bunker in Siberia.

Elizabeth Stark realized it on a bright sunny day in an ugly conference room in the Avengers Tower, as a single document was being thrown in front of her.

 


	11. Team Iron Man Vs. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Make things right Ms.Stark. Make things better. Make sure the world thinks of SHIELD and feels safe, proud, and hopeful. Make SHIELD into you. I made many mistakes in my life Ms. Stark, there are many things I need to repent for.
> 
> But this. This is the best decision I have ever made in my entire life.
> 
> (Let me remind you that I made the Avengers.)"
> 
> Nick Fury

**Team Iron Man Vs Aftermath**

**Liz**

Numb

I'm just numb.

I can't feel anything but emptiness. I don't feel anything but cold.

The beeping of the heart monitors fails to reach my deaf ears, and I completely disregard the flurry of agents and nurses walking in and out of the room.

I don't remember the last time I’ve been this still. The last time I've been this quiet.

The last time I've been this numb.

My legs protest in pain, both from the lack of treatment it received and the fact that I've been sitting in this tiny chair for the past few hours, the chair that is pressed up against Tony’s hospital bed. He’s yet to regain consciousness, he’s only breathing with the help of the ventilator, and there are several bruises scattered across his torso, along with a large gauze that is the last indication of the internal bleeding he suffered as we were taking him back from Siberia.

He should have woken up an hour ago. He shouldn’t need help breathing. The thought itself would have made me break down and cry on a normal day. I remember being in a constant state of tears and hysterics when he went missing in Afghanistan. I remember not being able to get through one day without breaking down and crying.

That girl; that Elizabeth Stark seems like a completely different person. Her memories don't seem like my own. That girl seems happier, and peaceful, and free, and alive.

I feel nothing.

_You have to live Elizabeth; you need to live whole-heartedly with no regrets. Don't you ever stop shining sweetheart, for the world needs the sun._

As soon as the words enter my head, the metal walls that have risen up within the past few hours block them out. I'm not willing to remember my mom, not right now.

My head snaps up for the first time that hour and my eyes focus on Aunt Peggy, balancing on her cane and walking into the overly large hospital suite.

Her gaze immediately drops to Tony, and she places one hand over her mouth in a sign of distress. I stare at her impassively, unable to regain the energy to go and comfort her. The uncharacteristic act isn’t lost on my godmother as she strides forwards to me, her arms raised in a gesture I know indicates the coming of a hug.

“Oh, sweetheart, what happened?”

_Don't you ever stop shining sweetheart._

I place my hands in a defence position in front of my chest, preventing Aunt Peg’s arms from wrapping themselves around me.

“Nothing. I'm fine Aunt Peg.”

Peggy Carter is many things, and one of them is perceptive. She’s always been able to know exactly what Tony and I need and provide us with exactly that regardless of difficulty or patience. Sometimes, she used to understand me better than anyone else could, even Tony.

Her perceptiveness hasn’t decreased in her old age, because, without saying a word of comfort to me, she walks to the other side of the bed and sits on the much larger and comfier armchair, letting her cane rest against the leg of Tony’s massive bed.

We sit in silence for who knows how long. It feels like there’s a ton of bricks in my throat, since the past few hours, my form of communication has been limited to nods and shaking of the head and two-word sentences. Any more than that and I feel the metal dam I've built to protect myself slowly start to chip, and right now, that is the last thing I need; feelings are the last thing I want.

The faint knock in the room indicates another visitor, and it isn’t fair to anyone, but I wonder where all these people were when Tony needed them. When he needed them to fight by his side, to support him, to have his back.

Aunt Pegs calls out in a clear voice, “Come on in.”

The door opens and I suppress the urge to throw the series of icicle shards at Ross and kill him in the spot when he pokes his head through the door. The two of us have reached somewhat of an understanding in the last few years, thanks to Tony’s not so great run-ins with the man and I guess Ross and I tread on a somewhat civil, professional relationship.

“There was a break-in at the prison.” He starts off by saying, clearly fazed by my lack of reaction.

“As you’ve requested, it wasn’t catalogued.” He stares at me in silence, presumably looking for any kind of reaction other than the impassive stare I have going on, but my face muscles can't seem to cooperate for today, they’re too numb.

Ross clears his throat and walks completely into the room, and I can actually feel the spark of electricity that crackles through my fingers when I spot the familiar circular object that he holds behind himself. I feel the dam cracking and I just need him to leave.

Aunt Peggy, my saviour, speaks up for me, “Mr. Secretary, now may not be a good time.”

He disregards her concern, which was more so of a warning and directs his next words to me, “We found this in Siberia. I'm not sure what happened, but I know that you two were...close, so I thought you might want it.”

Without even asking for my permission, he places the red, white and blue shield on my lap, the previously pristine object burnt and worn out but still recognizable despite everything.

I don't hear him leave the room.

I don't hear Aunt Peggy worriedly calling my name.

I don't hear a single thing over the blood rushing through my cheeks as the dam I've precariously built tumbles and shatters into a million pieces as it was hit by some wreaking ball.

The Video. My Parents. Their Murder. Bucky Barnes.

_“You knew?”      “Yes.”_

_“Stop! Stop! Stop it! Steve, you’re hurting him!”                “Please, Steve. I'm begging you. Stop it! Let him go.”_

_“You’re going to leave. And you’re never going to come back. Because the next time I see you, Steve Rogers, I'm going to kill you.”_

The next thing I know is that the vibranium artifact is being flung across the room by an icy blast, the sound resonating throughout the space, making a large dent on the wall due to the force of the throw.

It causes Ross and two other agents to rush into the room, their guns drawn out and their senses on alert. Ross notices the shield encased in tiny frosts and warily calls for me, “Ms. Stark.”

“You take that thing the hell away from me. I don't care if you cut it in half, or burn it, or throw it back into the goddamn ice where it came from, but I better not see it ever again!” I spit out the words in spite, my face turned away from everyone so that they won’t see the heavy flow of tears streaming down.

My eyes remain closed as the three agents leave the room, Ross holding the shield in his hands, and it's not until I feel Aunt Peg’s hands on my shoulders that I open my eyes and prepare myself for another onslaught of tears.

Like I used to do when I was a child and scraped my knee, or when my parents died, or when Tony went missing, I collapse on Aunt Peggy and cry my heart out, the tears not stopping now that I've started.

And as I'm crying, I realize that while Aunt Pegs may have held me when I cried onto her lap every single time, it was Tony who picked me up off the ground and bandaged my hurt knee, breaking my bike apart and building it up again to make me feel better. It was Tony who spent days holed up in our childhood house with me, re-watching videos of our parents, of us as a family. It was Tony, who finally made me smile as I found him on that dessert in Afghanistan, on his knees and alive.

And then my vocabulary increases from two words to four.

“I want Tony back. I want Tony back. I want Tony back. I want Tony back.”

_You have to live Elizabeth; you need to live whole-heartedly with no regrets._

If this is what my mom meant by living, then I sure as hell don't want to live at all.

**Vision**

The walk to Tony’s room is quite frightening actually. I wasn’t there when they brought him in for surgery, but I know that Liz wouldn’t have kept him in the hospital for too long if his condition wasn’t serious.

A part of me; the part that is called Jarvis, panics during the entire ride to the elevator. It's during moments like these where I am given insight into the relationship between Tony and the AI. Moments when I'm filled with an excessive amount of loyalty, trust, and concern for the man. Moments, when I somehow know more about him than he lets on. Moments, when I know what he wants without him vocalizing it. The habit was disconcerting at first, but I suppose I'm used to it now. I actually welcome the feeling, welcome the insight I receive on Tony Stark’s complicated persona.

Without knocking, I open the large metal doors, stopping short when I am greeted by only one of three people in the room, the other two unconscious; one asleep and the other in a coma.

“Ms. Carter,” I greet the elder woman respectively, keeping my voice quiet as to not disturb Liz, who definitely needs all the sleep she can get.

As if noticing my gaze on her, Peggy motions to the doctor with her head, “Cried herself to oblivion. Has no one got a clue of what went down in Siberia?”

I shake my head, “Any and all access to footage or information has been corrupted or deleted, and it is beyond my means to fix it.”

Agent Carter throws her hands up in frustration, “Well someone better tell me why the hell my two godchildren go to Siberia and one comes back with pneumonia and internal bleeding while the other is completely broken, throws Captain’s shield across the room and cries herself to sleep harder than she did when her parents died.”

I shake my head vigorously as her voice increases its volume, but by the time she understands the consequences of her actions, Liz has already shot up, her breathing heavy and laboured as her hawk-like gaze immediately strikes to her brother.

“He’s not awake yet honey,” Agent Carter answers for her.

She spots me in the room, but uncharacteristically doesn’t smile or wave, just acknowledges my presence with a small ‘hey’ before resuming her gaze back to the still unconscious billionaire.

“Elizabeth,” her aunt calls for her attention, “Go home. Eat something. Get some rest.”

“I'm not leaving...” she starts to protest, but her aunt interrupts her,

“You’re no help to your brother in your state. He needs you to be able to take care of him and you can't do that if you’re not taking care of yourself.”

She doesn’t need much arguing after that and soon enough the two of us pull up at the Avengers Tower, climbing out of the car and making our way to the top floor.

It's only in the elevator that I actually remember the reason as to why I had come all the way down to the hospital itself. But before I can warn Liz, the elevator doors open to a majorly trashed floor, with the windows broken and the floors caked out.

“What the hell happened here?” Liz walks into the room, her voice tired, and utterly done.

I'm momentarily shocked before I realize that Fyra mustn’t have realized what she did; the full extent of what her powers can do.

“You did,” I answer her question simply, and she whirls around, her face finally showing some emotion other than resignation.

“Huh?”

“You did this. You practically shot down an entire region.” I explain to her, watching her eyes widen with realization.

She murmurs to herself, but not quietly enough so that I can't hear what she is trying to say, “With just a single scream.”

After today, the puzzle pieces start to make more sense, start to come together more fluently, “I'm not sure if you realize this Ms.Stark, but the stone on my head glowed before releasing a great wave of energy. You summoned the powers of the Infinity Stones without being aware of it and because of whatever happened in Siberia, the Stones responded to your call of distress.”

I find her staring at her hands for a long moment, as if they can explain to her the impossibility of her powers; they probably can.

“I need to learn how to use these powers Vision. People are going to get hurt if I don't.” She tells me worriedly, looking out for others as always.

I nod my head in agreement as well as an apology, “I agree Ms. Stark, but I'm afraid I cannot help you with that matter. I know about the stones as much as you do.”

She points to the stone on my head, “Ya, but you know how to use your stone. We can start with that. I’ll figure out the rest.”

I smile at her, “We’ll get started right away Elizabeth.”

She smiles before making her way up the marble staircase, and I turn away from her, hoping to find something I can do around the building.

“Vision?” She calls for me and I turn around to see her nervously biting her lip.

I tilt my head in question and she responds, “I'm sorry. About Wanda. I didn't think it would end up like this.”

I shrug. Human emotions are still a mystery to me, and I'm still working my way around them. But knowledge is something I can never go wrong upon, “And I'm sorry for whatever went down with Captain Rogers.”

And sometimes, it's easy to forget that while I may have the Soul Stone resting upon my head giving me multitudes of knowledge, I do not know everything. Because sometimes, knowledge and feelings are not even relatively the same.

I'm reminded of this when, after my words of condolences, Elizabeth Stark transforms from apologetic and tired to cold and guarded in a matter of seconds as she laughs bitterly and says,

“So am I. I'm sorry that the blast didn't hit him harder.”

And as she disappears from view, I wonder for the umpteenth time;

 _What happened in Siberia?_  

**Tony**

Pain isn’t a foreign feeling to me anymore. Not after Afghanistan. Not after having shrapnel in my chest.

But damn, this hurts.

I blink my eyes slowly, adjusting it to the blinding sunlight, and I curse myself for waking up during broad daylight instead of the evening where it's dark and the only thing I'm going to have to adjust to is the fact that this isn’t the 300,000 dollar bed I got myself for my 38 and a quarter birthday.

“Hey, you.”

I turn my head at the voice, unconsciously smiling when I hear it.

My sister sits on a purple armchair, looking much better since the last time I saw her. Granted, the last time I saw her was three days ago in a bombed out Siberian Bunker crying her eyes out so anything would have been much better than that.

“Why am I not home?” I ask her. It's the only words that come out of my mouth after the rollercoaster of a week we had. This is my attempt at normalcy.

“They wanted to keep you in for a few days until you woke up.” She tells me, and by the obvious eye rolling, she isn’t happy with the idea either.

“And what can they do that you can't?”

She throws her hands up in the air and screams, “Exactly,” indicating that she’s already had this argument while I was knocked out.

I sigh and burrow myself further into the pillow, trying to get used to the feelings of all my fingers and toes on my body, “So, what did I miss?”

“Oh you know; the usual. I apparently summoned the Infinity Stones’ powers with a single scream and they created this massive blast to protect me and I destroyed the Tower and all of Siberia, which I ended up fixing, and now I need to learn how to use these powers and not avoid them because they actually ended up hurting people.” She says in one breath, and if it weren’t for the fact that I perfected Liz’s dialect years ago, I would be so very lost at the moment.

“Wow,” I sum all of it up with just one word, even though wow doesn’t even cover it. I was too beaten up to witness whatever happened down in Siberia, but the last thing I remember before succumbing to oblivion was the multitude of colours and the powerful blast, which did not help me in my painful state, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She breathes out a short laugh, “Wow doesn’t even cover it,”

Seeing the lightness in her eyes after a long time brings an indescribable feeling of peace. It hurts to be the one to start the conversation to take that light away,

“Lizzie, we probably should talk about Siberia.”

As expected, the light gets replaced by sadness, but the corners of her mouth lift up in a sad, knowing smile, “I know. I know. I just...I don't know what to say. Which is weird cause I always know what to say, I say more than what is necessary and right now, there are no words, to sum up what happened there.”

“We didn't react well,” I admit.

She shakes her head in a half-denial, “No. We didn't. But they didn't either. It was both our faults and it's over. I really don't want to talk about it.”

Before I can protest. Before I can tell her that she’s never been the type of person to keep things holed up inside of her, the person that lives with this type of bitterness, there’s a knock on my hospital door, and a woman wearing a fitted suit walks in.

She wordlessly hands a large envelope to Lizzie, and when my sister asks her, “And you are,” the woman doesn’t reply, opting to continue walking out the door.

The two of us end up alone in a quiet hospital room, staring at the large yellow envelope that Liz holds in her hands, nothing on the sachet that could give us a clue as to what it inside it.

Liz shakes it once, then twice, before slowly peeling the flap of the packet and pulling out a large set of documents out of it.

Her brows furrowed together, she looks at me, “Great. This whole mess started with a set of papers looking exactly like this and now they give me another one.”

My curiosity is piqued and I nod my head towards the large stack of papers she’s holding, “Read it.”

Instead of doing as she’s told, she gets up from her seat, and nudges me slightly, and I take the hint and shift to the side, just enough so that she can toe off her shoes and jump on the large bed, placing the document in between the two of us so that both of us can read what’s on it.

Minutes later, we still haven’t spoken a word, which is the longest either of us has gone silent when the other is around, but in our defence, we’re still reeling back from the latest shock we just received in the form of one document.

And as my sister flips to the very last page, she pulls out a wayward piece of paper; a black sheep in its true meaning due to a handwritten note on the lined piece of paper.

_Elizabeth Stark,_

_I know this is the last thing you expect. After the week you’ve had, this is probably the last thing you want. And I'm sorry for sprouting this on you without consulting you first, but there are some things in life that need to be done; you running SHIELD is one of them. This organization started with your father and your aunt, two people who, in their own way represented hope and light, and peace. I don't how and I don't know why, but somewhere along the way, SHIELD went from protecting the innocent and representing goodness to hiding secrets and reeking of darkness._

_I lost SHIELD because I, who entered the position of Director with the hope of making it better, lost sight of what the institute really stood for; what it was supposed to stand for. I lost SHIELD because SHIELD was never meant to be mine, it was never meant to be in the hands of someone who was willing to discard some lives for others._

_I'm giving SHIELD to you. I want you to be the one who builds it up from the ashes the way your father and Aunt did, and I want you to run it the way I should have run it. You’re the only person for this job, the only person who is capable of steering SHIELD into a better future; a brighter future. I know this may seem like a lot, I know it may seem like you cannot do this on your own, but we both know that you have your brother right there to help you, and I'm assuming he’s reading this letter at the same time you are._

_Make things right Ms.Stark. Make things better. Make sure the world thinks of SHIELD and feels safe, proud, and hopeful. Make SHIELD into you. I made many mistakes in my life Ms. Stark, there are many things I need to repent for._

_But this. This is the best decision I have ever made in my entire life._

_(Let me remind you that I made the Avengers.)_

_Nick Fury_

 

The next thing I know is that my little sister is hyperventilating,

“Oh My God! Oh My God! OH. MY. GOD. I can't run SHIELD. I barely have my life together. How...how am I supposed...what was Nick even thinking... I can't, I can't be the director of a company that’s DEAD. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don't...I don't understand. I have Stark Med and you’re not feeling well and Rhodey is still injured and I'm an absolute mess and my powers are out of control and the Avengers are all over the place and...and...and...”

“Hey, hey.” I place my hands on her shoulders and calm her down. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights, and I curse Fury for throwing this on her during the worst possible moment.

“You built a hospital from the ground up. You took care of a bunch of dysfunctional superheroes. You survived an alien invasion and a robot attack. SHIELD is going to be a piece of cake for you.” I tell her, meaning every single word.

“Wait, wait. Are you actually considering that I do this?” She looks at me in bewilderment.

“Fury’s right Lizzie. If there is anyone that can do this the right way, it's you.”

She places her head on my shoulders, and I feel the wetness of her tears on my shirt, “I don't know what to do.”

I lean my own head against hers; looking at the door the exact time I see the familiar flash of ginger hair, then red eyes, streaked with tears that spill down on fiery freckles.

_“Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?”_

_“Tears of joy, I hate job hunting. “_

And as I tell them to my little sister, I find myself believing the words for the first time in what feels like forever,

“It's going to be all right. We’re going to be all right.” 

 

 

 

 


	12. Team Captain America Vs. Wakanda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I've forgotten what beautiful looks like in the last seven days.

**Team Captain America Vs Wakanda**

**Steve**

Routine.

I'm supposed to be used it. I'm a soldier. Routine is supposed to be normal, following a routine is supposed to be as easy as breathing for me.

But as I wake up at five in the morning in a beautiful room in Wakanda for the seventh time, as I shower for fifteen minutes for the seventh time, as I walk down the same stairs and find Sam at the breakfast table, Wanda at the stove making scrambled eggs for the seventh time, I find myself, for once, hating this routine and realizing how much my life has changed.

Routine didn't exist with the Avengers. Every day was something different. Either Tony builds something and wants us to test it out, or Natasha pays a visit, or Pietro and Wanda teaches Sam Russian, or Vision tries to cook and Tony’s robots sneakily replace his food for Sam’s; every day was unpredictable, fun, happy.

And I don't regret what I did; not most of it anyway. But I do wish things went differently. Things are undoubtedly stressed between Pietro and Wanda, Sam is upset over how little he knows about what happened in Siberia (I've created an ice wall blocking out anything related to that).

Wanda leaves after placing the pan of scrambled eggs in front of me and I give her a small thanks before she smiles and walks away to the living room.

T’Challa was kind enough to provide us with some sort of living space for a couple of days until we figured ourselves out. I scan the space, spotting all of our members except two. Pietro doesn’t wake until later on, has never woken up before 10 according to Wanda, so the only person missing is,

“Where’s Scott?” I ask Sam, combing the room once more to try to find the man who would be running around the space looking at everything in awe.

Sam shrugs and after swallowing down his spoon of cereal, he tells me, “Went home. Wanted to figure things out with his family.”

Shoving down my breakfast relatively quickly, probably because Sam has finished his and just stares at me unflinchingly, the cocky smirk on his face indicating that he is fully aware of how uncomfortable he is making me; I collect both our plates and dump it down the sink, making a mental reminder to do the dishes before lunch.

We both make our way into the ‘living room’; an open space with a small coffee table and couches which are currently occupied by Clint and Wanda, both who slouch on the couch, playing with their fingers and clothing, picking apart at the ripping seams.

Not for the first time in seven days (in fact, I've lost count of how many times), I feel a wave of guilt crash into me. I subjected them to this life. I made them all fugitives. I have to be the one who fixes things for them. T’Challa has been generous enough but the fact that we cannot overstay our visit looms over all our heads like a dark cloud. In fact, this whole room is always dark and gloomy, a mixture of fear for our future, boredom, recollection and anger.

The transparent doors that lead to this section of the...castle opens and Shuri walks in for the first time since she introduced us to this place and discussed with me on how she plans on healing Buck, most of which went straight past my head (I found myself missing Tony for the first of many times that day).

Completely ignoring us due to the large holographic screen the blocks her vision from us, she runs around the room, looking under the couch, on the empty shelves, through the empty cupboards before rushing up the stairs. Seconds later we hear her shout of victory as she scrambles down the stairs holding a large rectangular thing that I don't bother to try identifying; if I thought that Tony’s tech was complicated, then the tech in Wakanda is a whole new level.

She folds the rectangular device and shoves it into her pocket and I can tell that she was planning on running towards the doors and into her lab (she reminds me of the Starks so much it hurts) before she sees us, dejectedly slumped on the couch, trying to find something in the room to look at.

She smiles sympathetically before walking to the wall in front of us and pulling forward a large T.V causing Wanda and Clint to sit up straighter and I'm pretty sure my face resembles their look of shock.

Shuri laughs at all our expressions, “If I had known that they didn't tell you, I would have come by much sooner.”

She shakes her head and gives me a nod before walking away, calling out behind her back as she does, “Channel 51 is American.”

Without hesitation, Sam rushes towards the T.V and presses on the black screen, sighing in relief when it comes to life. He swipes right until he gets to Channel 51, the news, and I feel my heart thump slightly faster, unsure of whether I want to know what is going on.

I can see that the rest of the team is also contemplating the option of watching one of the local channels as well, the contemplation disappearing as quickly as it came when a familiar face appears on the screen.

“Ms. Potts, Mr. Stark has been in the hospital for a week now, how bad are his injuries if he’s only being released today? If I remember correctly, he came back from Afghanistan and hosted a press conference an hour later.” A blonde woman sharply interviews, ignoring Pepper’s scrutinizing glare.

“I have nothing to say to that Ms. Everhart. I’ll only be telling you that Mr. Stark is getting released today and that he would like his privacy.”

My blood runs cold and I have to grip the couch so tightly my knuckles turn white. 

How can it be that Tony was in the hospital for a week?

Then I remember the nightmares. The horrible feeling of my shield going through his armour. Liz’s agonizing scream.

“Steve,” Sam looks at me warily, still not privy to whatever happened in Siberia.

I don’t respond to his unasked question, the fast-paced beating of my heart won’t allow it, and the only thing I can do is stand there, frozen and numbly listen to the rest of the conversation, Sam eventually giving up and doing the same.

The reporter, Ms. Everhart, fires up a new set of questions, “Ms. Potts, what can you say about the legal documents that the government leaked two days ago regarding SHIELD.”

The question makes everyone in the room sit up straighter, especially at the mention of SHIELD, but I still can't seem to get my fast-paced heart back into control and push down the impending panic attack I'm surely about to have at the thought of Tony being in the hospital for seven days.

Regardless, my curiosity is piqued as I stare the T.V down, wondering what has happened for the organization that hasn’t been publically talked about in months to suddenly be brought back into the spotlight.

“What the hell did the government do now?” Wanda mutters under her breath. Or I'm supposing she mutters it under her breath since sound seems dulled down because of the loud noise of the blood pumping into my veins.

Pepper (I should probably call her Ms.Potts now) just smiles secretively, the smile I know used to scare the crap out of Tony, “That isn’t my question to answer Ms. Everhart.”

Suddenly, the commotion outside the hospital gets much louder and everyone including Pepper turns around to look at the entrance of the building, the entrance that we cannot see at the moment due to the camera operator’s inability to move.

He eventually does slowly and steadily, moving towards where I presume Tony now stands and my heart races beyond its means, thumping loudly and boldly, so hard I'm afraid it will beat out of my chest and drop onto the floor, hardened and black.

Then, my heart stops. It stops beating. There is no noise, no movement, nothing.

Because Tony doesn’t come out the hospital doors.

Liz does.

And everything that I have been trying to block since I've left Siberia, everything that I've successfully managed to blank out, to forget while conscious, comes rushing back and I can't breathe.

The press yells her last name but the only thing I can hear is her voice even though she hasn’t spoken yet.

_“Stop! Stop! Stop it! Steve, you’re hurting him!”_

  _“Please, Steve. I'm begging you. Stop it! Let him go.”_

_You’re going to leave. And you’re never going to come back. Because the next time I see you, Steve Rogers, I'm going to kill you.”_

White spots dance in my vision and Sam’s comforting hand on my shoulder jolts me back to reality, and I refocus my attention back to the T.V, ignoring everyone’s worried expressions at my sudden reaction. I focus my attention back to Liz.

And God, she’s beautiful. She was always beautiful; I can't remember a time when she wasn’t. But looking at her now, without the pain, betrayal and hatred in her eyes, without a red face and bloody hands, without cuts scattered on her skin and body wilting of exhaustion, with her hair curled, her eyes regaining its spark, pink dress and white heels, face free of any makeup besides the pinked hue of her lips; I realized that I've forgotten what beautiful looks like in the last seven days.

“Let’s turn it off,” Wanda says suddenly, getting up from her seat to do just that.

“No!’ I croak out and my voice comes out more painful than intended, “No, leave it on,”

_I need to see her. This is the only way I’ll be able to see her._

The press all yells at once, their words becoming an incomprehensible jumble. Unlike her brother, Liz had always valued each member of the press individually, never allowing some in and others not. It's dangerous for any other celebrity, but for Fyra, there is no threat.

“If you want me to answer questions Ladies and Gentleman, I need to be able to hear them first. One at a time please.” She yells into the crowd.

An unknown face speaks up, “Ms. Stark, are the rumours we hear about Nick Fury and SHIELD true?”

She steps down one-step so that she can address the man properly, “Depends on what you heard.” She answers evasively.

Another reporter speaks up, “The rumour that Nick Fury wrote in his dying will that SHIELD and what is left of it will go to you and that you’re the Director of it now.”

The collective gasps that follow the statement aren’t from the Hospital in New York but rather the living room in Wakanda. Because Nick Fury gave SHIELD to Elizabeth Stark.

Smart son of a bitch.

Liz just nods her head, “That’s true.”

The crowd starts yelling again, their voices overlapping one another, causing Liz to speak which immediately quiets them down.

“Look, I know SHIELD wasn’t what it was supposed to be. I know SHIELD was dark, held secrets and ruined people’s lives.” She pauses, capturing everyone’s (Wakanda and New York) attention before continuing, “But I know SHIELD. My father and Godmother created SHIELD, and they wanted it to be pure and good and a representation of good. I want to rebuild SHIELD to be exactly that.”

Before the crowd can protest, she raises her hands and continues, “Which means, that this time around, there can be no secrets. I tell you what’s going on, and we won’t have a repeat of what happened a year ago. SHIELD is open to the public. You get a say in what happens and what doesn’t. But in order for that to happen, you need to trust me when I give you information. You need to trust me when I don't give you information. This can only work if we all trust each other.”

“Ms, Stark, we trust you, but how can we trust the government. It was them who made half of the decisions that SHIELD acted on.”

Liz then throws the next bombshell on us, “SHIELD will not be a government funded company. Between what it will eventually make, Stark Industries and Stark Med Care, we have enough funding to be independent. It also helps to have a third world country backing us up as well.”

A green haired reporter speaks up, “You mean Wakanda?”

Liz looks impressed and nods, “Yes, Wakanda. Now, if the questions are over, I would like to see my brother. Even though he did technically use me as a decoy so that he can escape you guys without being asked any questions” She smiles, wide and bright, and I breathe out a relieved sigh. She’s happy. It's all that matters now.

I spoke too soon.

Ms. Everhart, who has been quiet up until now, calls Liz out as she makes a move to leave, “Ms. Stark. What happened to Captain America? We know that he’s a fugitive, but I was under the impression that he was also your boyfriend.”

I didn't think it was possible for my heart to break anymore, but it does. Because as soon as the question is asked, Liz’s face morphs from happy, bright and relaxed, to shuttered, cold and lethal. She stares at Ms. Everhart, her face devoid of any emotion whatsoever, and I have learned that an expressionless Liz is most often a dangerous Liz.

“Ms. Everhart, I have absolutely nothing to say or tell you in regard to that topic and both you and I would greatly appreciate it if questions regarding that matter don’t appear ever again.”

And without a word, she walks away.

The room is bathed in a long silence after that, and Sam, who I will always be grateful for, directs the conversation to another path.

“So, Nick Fury gave SHIELD to Liz.”

No one seems particularly bothered by the revelation. I have no idea why anyone would be.

Appointing Elizabeth Stark as the director of SHIELD is the best thing that Nick Fury has ever done in his life. No arguments there.

**T’Challa**

“You know, if we’re going to be working together to restore SHIELD, then you may as well start calling me Liz,”

She smiles at me from the other side of the screen, and I smile in return.

We didn't see eye to eye during the period of time the press dubs as ‘The Civil War’, but Elizabeth Stark was always one to be respected, and now that everything is somewhat in the past, she is a good friend to have.

“All right, Liz, what’s the plan,” I ask her, wanting to get to work immediately. There are a few regulations I must wait on before I can officially become King, and until then, I have nothing to do.

“For starters, you can tell me why you’re helping me. I was under the impression that Wakanda didn't extend their help beyond Wakanda.” The question is expected, but I still bow my head in shame, regret and guilt overpowering me.

I decide to take the honest way out; Elizabeth Stark has had too many lies told to her, I do not wish to be a part of the list, “I need a way to absolve for all the sins I committed the past week.”

Her brows scrunch in confusion, “Sins?”

I bring my hands behind my back, a nervous gesture I couldn’t get rid of, “You told me to stop that day in your office. You told me that Baba wouldn’t have wanted revenge. I didn't listen. Many paid the price for that mistake.”

Before she can say another word, I continue, needing to get this off my chest, “And for the part I played in Siberia.”

Her eyes widen at the onslaught of news but she thankfully keeps quiet and I keep going, “I was there. I followed your brother and I saw everything. But I didn't do anything. I went after Zemo instead. I let you and your brother fight the Captain and Barnes and I can't help but think that things could have gone differently if I had stayed.”

The room goes silent for just a minute before she speaks, “No. No, what would have happened is that I would have still gotten pissed. My brother would have still gotten pissed. We would have still fought, and I would have probably froze you in a large piece of ice and then what happened would have still happened.” She sucks in a breath to control her pain and she does it efficiently.

Then she starts again, slowing her words down; an indication of her willingness to not ramble, “Look. What happened, happened. We can't go back and change the past. We have to move on T’Challa. _I_ need to move on. So do you.”

I nod, her wisdom striking me again. Then I proceed to the next topic that has been bugging me since the whole Siberia ordeal, “And I don't mean to stick to the past, but I'm assuming and hoping that you have figured out what happened to your powers that day.”

It was the most unforgettable and remarkable thing I have ever seen. A multitude of colours radiating pure power flew from different directions, before coming together and crashing into the bunker. Not even seconds later, a loud scream was heard and identified, before a force field the size of a small planet was released; the same multitude of colours that knocked me off my feet and knocked out the entire nation of Siberia. Never in my life have I seen such power before.

Liz sighs sheepishly, “Ya. I'm working on it. You know the Infinity Stones?”

I nod my head, “It's supposed to be an urban legend, just like the Black Panther, but the stone Vision wears on his head proves otherwise.”

She looks at the ceiling, looking overwhelmed, “Well, my powers are somehow derived from the Stones, there’s more than one. And when I was...distressed that day in Siberia, they somehow responded to a call I didn't know I made and you know what happened. Vision is teaching me how to use the portion of my magic that is fuelled by the Mind Stone, and I tracked someone else on earth who has another stone and I’ll probably pay them a visit as well.”

“How is it going?” I ask her curiously.

She produces a red spark that shines and floats through the air. It looks so much like the sparks that Wanda Maximoff produces, but with so much more opacity and clearly so much more power, “Great, actually. I'm actually in control of these. It took me years to get a hang of how to use my element powers, but I mastered this in a week. It’s because the Mind Stone is in charge of knowledge and shit, so I know how to use the power.”

“What can you do,” Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Shuri walk in the room, her eyes widening. Whether she’s excited about the fact that Elizabeth Stark, her childhood idol is on the screen or the fact that she is holding up a ball of red power in unknown to me.

She bites her lip in a form of displeasure and guilt, “Well here’s the trippy part, I can get into a person’s head, and can influence their choices, I can telepathically communicate with people, and I can screw with someone’s head. In other words, I don't really like this power.”

Shuri speaks up for the first time, alerting Liz of her presence, “In other words, you can do everything Loki, Vision and Wanda can do.”

Liz’s head bobs side to side, “Not everything. Loki is...was a God so he clearly had more power to add on, Vision is a completely different story, I can't access the net or do the turning into a ghost thing. Wanda’s powers partially come from the Stone, so there are some things she probably can do that I can't.”

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts and the ball of red energy leaves her fingertips, “I'm Elizabeth by the way.”

Shuri steps forward, ‘Shuri. T’Challa’s sister.”

Liz looks at me accusingly, “You didn't tell me you had a sister.”

I wave at Shuri dismissingly, “She is of no importance.”

Both Liz and I share a nice laugh at Shuri’s face of betrayal and shock before the two women talk up a conversation about brothers.

The next few minutes are spent with the three of us laughing around and teasing each other, talking about our children and making me forget about Barnes, the fugitives and King for a lovely hour.

Everything is going to be all right.

 

 


	13. SHIELD vs America

**Tony**

It's an odd feeling; whatever this feeling is. It's a mixture of what I feel for Rhodes and what I feel for Lizzie combined together and toned down a notch. This feeling; the feeling I get as I watch Peter Parker return to his cozy apartment in Queens after spending the weekend with the kid, is the same feeling I get when Lizzie leaves for a seminar or when Rhodey leaves for a mission, just toned down a notch.

It's a feeling I don't like. A feeling I want to get rid of. A feeling I can't get rid of.

_Get your shit together Stark. Your sister needs you._

When Haps gets into the car, he doesn’t even need clarification, and he makes his way towards the little hospital located in some tiny-ass town no one knows the name of where my sister works. I’ve given her space for a good two days, which is more than she’s ever given me, and now it's time for an intervention.

We pull up at New Sun Hospital, the hospital that looks so petite compared to Stark Med. Being who I am, it is expected for me to get the occasional gawk and stare, but New York City has become used to my presence unlike the town of Lake Placid whose residents stop to openly stare and take pictures on their phone.

I walk in, and completely bypass the front desk since the receptionist is too busy reading the magazine cover with Pepper’s face on it, and smile at the nurse who drops the items she carries in her hands.

“You don't happen to know where my sister is, do you,” I ask, giving her my most charismatic grin.

Clearly flustered, the nurse, Talia, points to the elevator, “Operating Theatre 2 on the second floor.”

I smile at her once more, calling out to her as I press the button and wait for the elevator, “You’re a lifesaver, Talia.”

It takes two years for me to get to the second floor, and when I do, I make my way to the second, and last, operating room on the floor, where I prepare myself for a long wait, pulling out my phone to keep me occupied.

Surprisingly, less than two hours later, the doors slide open, meaning that I arrived near the end of the surgery, and it's only when a couple runs towards my sister, that I notice that they were there at all.

“She’s fine. She’s okay. They’re bringing her to the recovery room. You can see her there.” Elizabeth tells them solemnly before walking away, presumably to change out of her scrubs.

I flinch.

Because this woman, the woman that just came out of the OR, the woman that’s been walking around in my sister’s skin for the past week isn’t my sister.  

This woman is cold, harsh, quiet, and alone.

It's a coping mechanism that Elizabeth Stark uses to not handle the shit she should have been handling since 2008. And I know that I'm not the best person to speak about dealing with shit and facing them head on, but my sister is much better than I am at many things, and blocking emotionally draining crap out is one of them.

I make my way over to the room assigned just for my sister, despite that fact that she’s been working in this hospital as a temporary surgeon for a little less than a week. Knocking on the door, I call out to her,

“Room Service!”

 _My_ Elizabeth Stark would have responded with a quirky retort, playing along, but _this_ Elizabeth Stark (which isn’t Elizabeth Stark at all) remains silent and opens the door moments later, her white coat on over her ripped jeans (fashion I still cannot understand) and shirt.

I shake my head, “Nope. You’re done for the day. You’re clocking out. You’re coming with me and we’re putting some food in our system,”

She protests as I drag the coat off her shoulders and throw it in the room, not caring where it lands.

When I try and drag her out, she resists, and I realize that I've forgotten that my sister isn’t five anymore and is too strong for me to drag her places like I used to.

“Tony, I have to work.”

I call out to my best lawyer, “Friday, tell me Ms. Stark’s schedule for the past few days.”

The AI’s response is immediate, “Ms. Stark has worked for precisely 91 hours in the hospital, 59 and a half hours at SHIELD, 14 hours with Vision, and slept for three hours this past week Mr. Stark.”

I shift my attention from the blinking blue light on Liz’s desk to the woman herself who looks at anything but me.

“Let’s go.” My words are definite and stern and it does the trick. She grumbles as she picks up her purse and closes her office door, and soon enough, we’re driving away from the small town and into the city.

The city my little sister hasn’t faced since the Civil War.

The tiny little cafe we eat at is ours. It’s placed in the centre of the city with beautiful umbrellas and decor that complements my sister and the contemporary, sleek design that suits me. It's the place we’ve always been going to and it's always been ours. Literally, I bought the place fifteen years ago.

I swallow down my cheeseburger before looking at my sister pick her food and ask her,

“So, 14 hours with Vision, huh? Should I be hurt that it's 13 hours more than you’ve spent with me this past week or...”

She rolls her eyes at me, a little smile starting to form. I suppose the past two days of non-stop work did benefit her after all. She’s a Stark and that’s how we Starks cope; work.

“I think that the prevention of what I did in Siberia is more important than your sister deprived feelings Tony.”

Finishing off my second cheeseburger, I dust off the crumbs, “Fine. Show me what you can do.”

She raises an eyebrow before ridding her hands of crumbs and taking in a deep breath.

The next thing I know is that my cheeseburger (my third one) is rising in the air in one fluent motion, red swirls of power that are almost identical to Wanda’s encompassing it.

At the same time on the other side of the room, red bubbles of water float out of the fish tank, doing their very own dance around the room, swirling and creating their shape as the customers clap in glee and the servers look around confusedly.

And my sister just sits down and watches the show. The show that she orchestrates with one hand; the kind of control I’ve never seen anyone have with an Infinity Stone, not even Vision.

When the bubbles pop, and the cheeseburger falls, I ask her, “What else?”

She smirks, “I will never do this ever again, but today is my only exception.”

She looks straight at the teenage boy standing beside us. The teenage boy whom I’ve already ran through facial recognition in hopes of draining his bank account and donate it to the Woman’s Global Empowerment Fund so it would teach him a lesson to not harass girls who just want to eat a nice meal in peace.

I look at my sister, and watch as a small streak of red whizzes through the humid air and disappear after making contact with the teenage Asshole’s head. At this point, I’ve already gathered what she’s going to do, but I'm curious as to how my sister is going to get her revenge.

The calm ballad that fills the restaurant is replaced with a more upbeat Macarena as Asshole begins to walk to the middle of the restaurant and performs the dance, as the teenage girls’ face morphs from fearful to amused.

Liz, being Liz, ends the assholes torture far too soon, and he snaps back into reality, runs out of the restaurant, into his fancy sports car, and drives away, as my sister’s frame shakes in silent laughter.

And I know right then, as she uses the powers, that was notorious for its inability to give control, with ease, I know that my sister is going to be okay.

And I knew that I would be too.

Because we’re Starks.

**Peter**

The bustling of the rest of the students on lunch break drowns out Steve Rogers’ lecture on detention and changing bodies (how the hell did they convince him to do this?) and my attention strays from the Ex-Avenger to the small window of the classroom, looking for familiar faces.

Two minutes later, Mr. Cornell, the teacher supervising detention for the day, gets up to increase the volume of the TV, a futile effort since there isn’t much that can drown out hundreds of fuelled up teenagers on a Friday. I put my head down, relishing the feeling of the cold wood against my sweaty forehead due to the AC-less room. 

My head snaps up when Captain America’s voice returns at full volume, causing the other kids in detention to cover their ears, but I look at the clock. It's only been twenty minutes, which means that lunch hasn’t ended yet. I look out the window to see the same crowd of students. Only now, they’re frozen and silent, staring at something at the end of the hall and I clench my fists in anticipation of potential danger.

Principal Morita opens the door, looking at us all uneasily, before wiping down his sweaty hands on his pristine dress pants.

“Excuse me Mr. Cornell, but we have a guest.” He jitters, most likely out of nervousness.

The cause of his apprehensive state pokes her head through the door seconds later, smiling at me when she spots my bored-ass-self sitting on the desk in the far end.

 “So, you’re body is changing...”

Her confident self almost trips over her own feet when she hears Captain America’s voice coming from the TV.

She raises her hand as if getting permission to speak, “Do you mind if I just...”

She half marches, half skips towards the television, and after staring at the outdated VCR player’s controls, she yanks the plug out of its socket in one go, before clapping her hands and staring at the rest of us and smiling proudly.

“There we go. That’s much better.”

Principal Morita, now more unsure than ever, asks curiously, “Is anything wrong Ms.Stark?”

The raven-haired superhero throws her hands up in surrender before speaking, “Oh. No. I'm not here to buy anything. I just, needed to borrow...” She looks at me, and I wonder if the fact that she needs me hints Avengers or trouble.

She clears her throat and starts again, “Would it be fine if I borrowed Peter Parker, even though he’s in detention? He can serve his sentence after he’s done.” She smiles sweetly, somehow unaware that all she has to do is ask.

Mr. Morita looks at me questioningly, and it doesn’t take my heightened senses to know that there will be an impending interrogation for me in the very near future, “May I ask why?”

Elizabeth gives my principal a warm smile, a Liz-smile, as I like to call it, “He's doing an internship for my brother’s company. Just important things regarding that. I'm only in town for a couple more days so I thought I’d finish up everything before I leave.”

 Principal Morita indicates for me to gather my belongings as he gives Ms. Stark the affirmative to take me out. As we make our way towards the school entrance, the school population opens up like the Red Sea, and I try to ignore the open-mouthed gawking of the other students as Ms. Stark explains to Aunt May that she’ll be taking me out for half an hour at the most. 

Aunt May, who adores Elizabeth Stark, not for her contributions as a superhero but for the contribution she has made through Stark Med, readily agrees and soon enough we’re cruising away on a silver sports car that screams Tony Stark more than it does Elizabeth.

“Ice cream?” She asks me. More like yells at me through the rushing of the wind in our ears.

“Huh?” I ask her to clarify.

“Do you know where we can get some ice cream,” She says when we’re forced to stop at a red light, “I’ve been craving one all day.”

I point to the red and yellow dots in the far distance, “The park always has an ice cream truck. I think. Almost positive. Most of the time.”

She smiles at me, “Great!”

The lights flash green and soon enough we’re zooming through the busy city towards the red slides and yellow monkey bars. Chasing after the ice cream truck that leaves the area, only getting it to stop when Liz freezes the mirrors.

And as we sit on the bench, facing the harbour, licking our respective ice cream cones (chocolate for me, bubblegum for her) Elizabeth Stark asks me,

“So, you wanna explain why you’ve been driving Tony up the walls lately. And don't give me any of that Avengers crap. You and I know that isn’t the truth kid.”

Busted, I sit in silence trying to formulate my thoughts in order for them to make sense, especially since I haven’t admitted the truth to anyone but Mr. Stark in a long time, even to myself.

I don't know how much time has passed when I finally realize my answer, “ I wasn’t doing much before, you know. Before Mr. Stark came to see me, I was you’re friendly neighbourhood Spiderman, stopping petty thieves and saving cats. And then...”

I'm unable to finish the sentence so Ms. Stark does for me,

“You fight in Germany. Against some of the greatest heroes of the world and now, you can't just go back to being normal, when you know you have the potential to do so much more.”

Her analysis is spot on and I look at her in bewilderment. She shrugs almost bashfully.

“What? I was a kid at a point too, you know. A kid with powers just like you. Imagine what you would want to do if you can literally emit fire out of your hands and fly through the sky on a wave of water.”

I ask her one of the many questions that have been nagging me about Fyra ever since she went public, “Why didn't you? You only became a hero a few years ago.”

She pops the remaining of the cone into her mouth, “Control. I had no control. I mean, my powers are derived from the Infinity Stones so I can stop blaming myself for not learning control sooner. I'm a grown adult who's been using her powers for years and I still don't know how to fully control them.”  

Looking away from the water, she faces me for the first time since we sat down, “Here’s the thing Peter. My brother is a self-blaming asshole who will find a way to blame himself if Thor Odinson in Asgard gets a paper cut. Being that kind of person makes him feel responsible for everything. So how responsible do you think he’s going to feel for a kid he brought to Germany and practically brought into the Avengers?”

I look down. I never thought of it that way.

Still, I argue, “But I'm not a kid. I'm old enough to know what is good for me.”

She nods, “I'm not arguing against that. I'm just trying to give you a better understanding of my brother. And, to be honest, I'm kind of worried about you myself. You’re not immortal Peter. You have a life to live, people that care about you. Remember that before you think of doing something stupid.”

My watch beeps right then, and Liz, looking at the time offers to drive me back to class. The ride back is less tense than it was before, and the two of us talk about Mr. Stark; his inventions now and the inventions he made when he was a child.

And as I climb up the stairs to my school, Elizabeth Stark’s sleek car still behind me, a sudden thought causes me to stop and turn around.

“Did Mr.Stark put you up to this?”

She smiles. The kind of smile one smiles before dropping a bomb on you.

“Nope. Happy did.”

**Elizabeth**

The view in front of me is ludicrous. I’m sitting in my unreasonably large office in Stark Med, signing papers concerning the different surgeries that will take place this week while the large monitor placed on my desk displays the contract for a new SHIELD wing, and the hologram in front of me reads the floor plans of the buildings that still need to refurbished in Siberia.

Three different things and not enough time. I’d like to have a personal chat with the asshole who decided that a day should be limited to 24 hours. I need 50!

“That is enough Elizabeth Stark!”

I look up in shock to see Charlie standing there with an angry look; hands on her hips, six-inch stilettos, and a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised, complementing the lethal feeling she radiates.

“Hm..” And the moment, I don't have time for an argument. I need to get all this work done, so I can move on to the other projects I have planned.

“Elizabeth,” My head snaps up once more at the use of my full name. She hasn’t called me by my full name in years.

She grabs the files from my desk and my protest dies in my throat as she speaks, “You are killing yourself. You haven’t taken a breath since the Civil War, and as much I understand you, I am tired of this coping mechanism you’ve got going on since 2012.”

“Charlie...”

“No. No. You’re listening to me. I get it. You’re upset about Steve Rogers, about Bucky Barnes, about Siberia, and Sokovia, and those stupid Stones. But the last time you accumulated your hurt and pain, you did it for four years Liz, and the aftermath was the destruction of Siberia. You’re putting things in boxes and closing them up Liz and they keep building up and one day it's going to burst.”

For some reason, I feel like smiling. Charlotte McCoy has never been one to bullshit, and I’ve always counted on her to tell it as it is. I suppose is gratifying to know that it still hasn’t changed, that it still won’t.

However, before I can tell her a lie about my wellbeing that she’ll definitely see through, the holographic picture of Siberian buildings, changes into the faces of the newly reformed World Security Council; the people that I've been trying to avoid ever since my acquire of SHIELD. 

Councilwoman Hawley takes the centre throne, as it was she who ran the Council from the beginning times. Unfortunately, she happens to be my least favourite out of the six due to the fact that she can be...a bitch.

“Ms. Stark,” Hawley addresses me with a smile that looks less authentic than her wig.

I’m tempted to smile back and play this stupid game of civility we’ve been playing for the past couple of years, but the events of the past few weeks have changed everything and I’m not in the mood or headspace for games.

So I raise an eyebrow at her, “You do realize that the first thing I'm doing after this call is getting my brother to make sure you guys can't hack this thing ever again right?” I say, referring to the hologram.

She nods her head, understanding the hidden meaning of my words; _you only get one chance to talk to me._  

“We’d like to discuss SHIELD.” Councilman Landes speaks up for the first time, and I can see that he adapted to his new role quite well.

I know where this conversation is heading; I had hoped the Council would know better than to make this offer.

Still, I give them the benefit of the doubt, “What about SHIELD?”

Hawley smiles at me, mistaking my question for compliance, “Let’s not beat around the bush, Ms. Stark. You and I are both smarter than that. I’d like to go through the various benefits to your organization when we have the shares,”

I raise an eyebrow at the bold statement, “ _When?_ I'm sorry, you mean _if._ Right _?”_

The Council stares at each other, clearly not expecting the cold response.

Councilwoman Patel responds curtly, “Ms. Stark, you do realize that your organization is nothing without us. We give you the jurisdiction, and the money, and the ammunition.”

I feel my anger rise, and when the Council members’ eyes widen in fright I know that my eyes had just flashed colour; ever since I started training with the Infinity Stones’ powers, they have been more accessible.

“Look. I am not Nick Fury. Let’s start with that before we move further along into this pointless conversation.”

“This is more of a negotiation Ms. Stark. SHIELD will benefit greatly from our support. I know you think you can do this by yourself, but you can’t. You need us. SHIELD needs us.” Councilman Gao attempts to placate me, but the only thing I hear is him calling me out on my incompetence to run SHIELD.

I try to stay calm. Nothing has ever succeeded by becoming angry.

“Ok. I have taken your...suggestions into consideration. And I have come to a conclusion. No.”

And I suppose that the polite, calm, negotiable Council was just a front for an attempt at an easy takeover.

“Ms. Stark, if you do not comply to the Council’s wishes, then we will have to forcibly remove you from SHIELD. We are not asking much. Just that SHIELD provide us with its customary favours, and we provide you with the freedom to do whatever, and weapons.” Hawley spits out with finality, unaware of how angry I am at the moment.

The loud thumping of my palms on the desk is the next thing they hear, and I can feel the power course through my veins and I know that my eyes are probably the equivalent of a disco ball, but I am too angry to care.

“What part of SHIELD belongs to me do you not understand. This is _my_ organization. Run by _my_ money and if you think that I am going to bow down to your murderous asses for even a second then I think you should get a psychiatric evaluation. Cause the only the way I’m giving up SHIELD is with a fight. And considering the evidence I have on your asses trying to blow up New York, not to mention the whole Hydra thing, I’m sure that I’ll win.”

The only thing I can hear after that is the audible gulp from Councilman Landes.

Pressing the button to the end the call, I finish off with an apt farewell,

“Now if any of you decide to contact me again regarding this issue, I’ll make sure to blow you up into ashes and scatter you across the Pacific Ocean so that you’ll never be found again. Understood?”

I don't give them a chance to respond. I end the call and walk out the door, forgetting about the Council once I get into the elevator and get bombarded with forty different questions and concerns.

I have a SHIELD to run.

 

 

 


	14. Stephan Strange Vs The Time Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth Stark can singlehandedly save us all or be our demise

_2015_

**_Elizabeth_ **

_The blaring ring of the phone substitutes the music in the car, and without checking to see who it is, I press the green button on the steering wheel of the car Tony and I spent a whole week building._

_“Elizabeth Stark speaking,”_

_The laugh on the other end causes me to straighten in my seat and crack a wide smile. He’s been on a mission hunting down Hydra in Berlin for the past three days and communication between the two of us had been very rare._

_“I just called to tell you I'm home, hon.”_

_I feel my cheeks go red at the endearment, as it always does when Steve Rogers calls me honey, or hon, or beautiful, and I clear my throat to clear my head._

_“Well, that’s too bad because I'm not. But I will be. In like, five hours.”_

_I hear him drop his keys in the bowl on the counter of our apartment, and I know that he’s making his way to the living room to plop on the couch._

_“Steve Rogers, if you get dirt on my Godmother’s unreasonable, thousand dollar couch gift, that I'm going to donate next week, I will electrocute the living shit out of you,”_

_His strides stop, and I hear him run up the stairs, presumably to the shower as he mumbles a yes ma’am into his phone._

_“I’ll see you when you get home, alright,”_

_I'm about to press the red on my wheel, when a sudden thought hits me, influenced by the restaurant I whizz by._

_“Steve, Steve! Make those ravioli things you used to make. I tried to replicate them two days ago, but I ended up giving it to Mr. Allen at the hardware shop because it didn't taste like yours, and then I called Tony’s chef and asked him if he could make it and he said he wasn’t sure what you put in it, which is ridiculous, because that chef is worth like a million dollars and he can't figure out what a simple super soldier slash Avenger puts into a ravioli, and then I was like—”_

_“Liz, Liz. Come home. I’ll make dinner. And chocolate cake.”_

_I pull into the parking lot of Metro-General Hospital and park my car into an empty space,_

_“Have I mentioned how much I love you, Steve Rogers?”_

_“Not in the last three days you didn't,”_

_‘Well, I do. So much,”_

_“Not as much I as do.”_

_After a couple of goodbyes, I turn the phone off and enter the hospital, speed walking through the corridors and bypassing the executive elevator to get on the regular one._

_And I walk into the large conference room prepared to tackle my final meeting of the month._

_Half an hour later, and I'm about to rip my hair off my head in boredom. The meeting I came to Metro-General was initially because the hospital wanted to invest in the medical supplies and equipment Stark Med produced, but now all my finance team and Metro General’s finance team is doing is discussing deals that would be more profitable for themselves, overthrowing ideas in favour of their own hospitals._

_Soon enough, I have had enough and I abruptly stand up off my seat, and the sudden movement causes all eyes on me. I take in a deep breath and count backwards from three to prevent a rant and calmly tell them,_

_“I just need to use the bathroom. You all can proceed without me, I trust my finance team.”_

_In the elevator, I kick off my heels and reach behind me to unzip my dress, material pooling down at my feet to reveal the tank top and shorts I wore under. Reaching into my large bag, I pull out a pair of sneakers and tug them on just as the elevator doors open to the sixth floor. Leaving the dress and shoes, I run out, and in my haste bump into the first person I come across._

_“Watch where you’re going,” The man’s voice chastises me but I'm too busy rubbing my hurt forehead to bother looking at his face as I rush to deliver an apology._

_“God, I'm so sorry. I was running, or speed walking, and I didn't see you, or anything actually, but I left my things in the elevator and I was scared someone was going to spot me and tell me to go back to the...”_

_When I look up, I realize I recognize the man, or at least, I've heard of him; Stephen Strange, one of the best neurosurgeons in the States._

_He recognizes me to, “Stark.”_

_I shake my head, “It’s Elizabeth, please. They call my brother Stark.”_

_He’s about to say something, else, his curious gaze fixated on me, but the on-call cuts him off, “Stephan Strange, Colleen Brown report to OR.”_

_At the corner of my eye, I see Rachel, the head of my finance team and Ashan, the head of Metro-General’s finance team get off the elevator, clearly looking for me._

_So, as Dr. Strange prepares to leave, I run after him, and we walk side by side._

_He looks at me oddly, the same way he’s been looking at me ever since I bumped into him, “What are you doing?”_

_I grab on to his arm and give him a long serious look, “You’re going to let me help you operate.”_

_“What—” I don't give him time to protest._

_Snagging the scrubs of a poor nurse who brings his back from the laundry, I put it on and run into the ICU, ignoring everyone’s look of shock when I walk in the room._

_“You cannot interfere with my patients.”  I turn around to see Strange behind me, the odd look of curiosity on his face replaced by a slight sternness._

_“Look, they called for a doctor Brown and he’s not here yet. You need another. Whoever this Doctor Brown is, I can assure you that I'm better. And instead of arguing, we can save someone’s life so let’s go.”_

_Without waiting for a response, I make my way to the operating bed and grab the dissecting knife, the patients report already projected onto the screen in front of me._

_Stephan Strange was an easy surgeon to work with, a talented one too. He worked around me efficiently, and it was if we were working together for years prior to this._

_After the surgery and five selfies with the nurses, I walk out of the building, day over and meeting long forgotten._

_“Ms. Stark.”_

_I turn around to see Strange, who had disappeared right after the surgery and was nowhere to be found, running after me._

_He hands me three things; my heels, my dress, and the large silver earrings I had worn to the meeting._

_“You did good today. In the OR,” He seems surprised and I arch my eyebrows._

_“I did attend med school you know. You may be surprised to hear that I have a couple of degrees.” I tell him humorously._

_He laughs, “I've seen your brother on tv. He can't stop listing your accomplishments. The whole world knows that you have more than just a couple of degrees.”_

_The air around us becomes awkward after that; the kind of awkward where you don't have words to fill the silence, to continue the conversation. The kind of awkward that means goodbye._

_So we say goodbye._

_“I guess I’ll see you around sometime. Your hospital brokered some kind of deal with my hospital, which I should technically know the logistics of, but I skipped the meeting in favour of operating with you so...”_

_Strange huffs out a laugh, “I’ll see you around Stark.”_

_And I didn't know that the next time we meet, we’d both be different people. We’d both suffer different scars, different wars, different monsters._

_The next time we’d meet would be a year later._

_Not as a doctor and a doctor._

_But As Fyra and a wizard._

**2016 (After the Civil War)**

**Stephan Strange**

The last time I’ve ever felt like this; this tired, drained, feeling, was the day after I wrote my final exam, the day after a week of sleepless nights, meal-less days, and brain-wracking studying.

It was a time when the only kind of magic I knew was the magic of surgery and money.

It was a time before big green monsters, aliens, men in iron suits, and wars between superheroes.

It was a time before my hands were rendered useless, a time before wizardry, a time before Infinity Stones.

It was a time when things were normal.

But I suppose, after coming out of an endless time loop that I thought I’d never come out of, I suppose nothing was ever normal. It was just my perception of the world. And my perception of the world was tainted because they hid what the world really was, what the world really encompassed and they covered the world and blinded its inhabitants with mediocre aspects such as money, and fame, and power.

Now, I can't even define what normal is. I don't even think normal is a concept anymore. Normal, is just a facade, a smokescreen to cover reality.

“Stop thinking. It's too loud,”

Wong interrupts my thoughts.

I try and smile at him, but the last few days have taken its toll on me and I feel powerless. Sometimes, even though I know it is wrong to even think of it, I find myself wondering about the stone that holds an infinite amount of power stored in the next room.

“I think this is the right place,”

Before they (whoever it is) even complete their sentence, Wong and I have our shields up and are ready to attack.

Another voice accompanies the first one, this voice somehow familiar. Still, we cannot see or locate where the voices are coming from.

“You _think?_ How are we going to explain us coming through the walls to some poor family eating dinner huh?”

“I’ve done this before. It worked. ..Most of the time,”

“I swear to God, Viz...”

The young woman puts her hands up in the air in surrender when she sees our defensive positions. Her eyes are wide and panicked even after we lower our stances, and she darts her focus from me to Wong, shifting her foot on the floor in an obvious nervous tick.

Hesitantly, she looks at me, and smiles slightly, unsure, “I'm not sure if you remember Doctor, but I'm the psychopath that barged into your surgery a year ago, and there was music and you said see you around, but the deal between our two hospitals got shut down, because I said so, cause the deal benefitted no one but the finances of the companies which is stupid because it's a hospital, not a corporation and the main goal should be helping people and saving lives not—”

True to her reputation, Elizabeth Stark rambles a mile a minute, her hands losing it's ‘I surrender’ position and now moving erratically in the air, her passion on the subject clear and the _thing,_ Vision, beside her has to make her stop.

“Elizabeth, I think you’re scaring them,” Vision, the well-known entity that Tony Stark and Ultron created nods his head towards Wong, who looks quite overwhelmed at the young Stark’s reverent speech on the purpose of hospitals.

Since Wong seems kind of star-struck, I step forward and speak up, “To what do we owe the visit? I have no intention of being on SHIELD’s shit-list.”

Her brows constrict at the mention of the organization, her organization “SHIELD? Oh, no! SHIELD isn’t going to mess up your supernatural shit anymore. Not sure you heard, but I'm trying something new. I'm here for something else.”

 Her voice trails off in the end, and, considering everything that has happened this past year, with the Accords and everything, I dread whatever it is. 

“You are in possession of an Infinity Stone. An Infinity Stone that we need.” Vision speaks up when it is obvious that Stark won’t.

My answer is immediate and sure, “No.”

Elizabeth falters, “No?”

“I can't give you the Stone. It's my responsibly to keep it safe. And keep it away from humankind. Keep it away from everything. You have no idea what something like that can do.” I tell her.

She murmurs under her breath but I still hear her, “I think I've got a pretty good one,”

I know the conversation is about to alter into an argument, because while Tony and Elizabeth Stark may be perceived as different as night and day, they still share the same blood of stubbornness, and business; a fact the whole world knows. The Starks are unbeatable when in a negotiation.

So when Elizabeth places her hands down her sides to smooth down the imaginary wrinkles on her jeans, and takes a step forward, I get myself ready for the argument of the century.

It never comes.

Instead, she squints at some sight behind me, and I incorrectly assume it's at my cape.

“Um...Doctor, are portals opening in here normal?”

It wasn’t. In fact, I lost my mentor, a friend, and almost my entire life in order to prevent any more portals like the one growing in the room from occurring.

“Wong?” I look to him for clarification, because as far as I was concerned, my deal with Dormammu made it so that no more Dark Dimension demons would attack Earth.

“Some of them went rogue. They were loyal to the mission, not the master. We have something they want.”

The Time Stone.

Elizabeth groans, “Why do I only make appearances when shit like this happens. Why can it not be a lazy Sunday for once!”

Vision looks towards me for instruction, I suppose it's one of the habits he got from Tony’s AI that he still has difficulty overcoming, “Do we fight?”

Instead of telling him, I perform my series of hand gestures and get out my shield, watching a golden line, strike the gnarly creature that comes out of the black and blue portal. A Mindless One.

From behind me, I vaguely hear Elizabeth Stark breathe out “Cool,” in awe.

Five more creep out of the portal at the same time, one charging for me, one charging for Wong, one charging for Vision, and for reasons unknown to us, two charging towards Elizabeth. I defeat mine with practised ease, as does Wong, and we turn around to help our newcomers, only to see that they are doing well on their own.

Vision has extinguished his dark demon through the Infinity Stone he wears on his head. The yellow-orange beam causes the gnarly _thing_ to go up in ashes, disappearing from sight, as opposed to melting into a puddle of goo.

As for Elizabeth Stark, well she gets rid of her two Mindless Ones before I can rid of my one. It's a remarkable sight when you’re not looking at it from a television screen. Two lightning bolts, not exactly blue, but not purple either, intertwines with two long flames of fire and hits the monsters smack on the chest and they just disappear, without a trace, as if they were never there to begin with.

And only Elizabeth Stark can produce a huge ass bolt of power and then clap her hands as if she blew a birthday cake, her wide smile dimming into disbelief when she stares at the portal. The portal, which is making way for enough Mindless Ones to fill an entire apartment.

“Oh come on seriously. What even are these?” She shoots several orbs of fire and ice, disabling them and allowing Wong and I to finish them off.

“Come on Elizabeth. Why won’t you use them?” Vision yells at the young Stark from across the room, for what, I don't know.

She, without stopping her attacks, yells back, “Because last time they were used, I broke down an entire nation. Remember?”

A Mindless One goes right through Vision, I blink twice to make sure what I saw was real, “But we’ve been practising. You’ve mastered my Stone.”

Even though their yelling at each other, no animosity can be detected between the two of them, their friendship evident even through their disagreements.

“And what’s wrong with the way I'm fighting right now?” She counters back, performing a graceful backflip that sends three Mindless Ones flying when she lands.

“You could beat all of them at the same time if you just used the Infinity Stones!”

I falter. So does Wong.  The mention of Elizabeth using the Infinity Stones does that to the two of us. From what I have learned and studied on the Stones so far, I know that no being in this galaxy is strong enough to wield any one Stone. We all need a powerhouse; The Eye of Agamotto, The Tesseract, Vision. Yet, Elizabeth and Vision talk as if Fyra can wield not only one, more than one stone, and without their powerhouses.

I'm so distracted with both the constant stream of Mindless Ones and the task of deciphering Elizabeth Stark to notice my newest addition that creeps out of the dark portal guarded by several Mindless Ones that we’ve yet to get to.

Next thing I know is that I'm trapped inside a blue force field, Vision and Wong with me, the barrier keeping us in pulsing with an electric, dark power. And whatever this wall of power is made of, it doesn’t allow Wong and I to create any portals to escape, and the wall does not respond to any of the attacks Vision fires onto it.

All we can do, is watch with morbid fear, at the way all the Mindless Ones crowd in on Liz, who, despite doing her very best to fight them all off, cannot keep track of the increasing amount of Dark Demons that surround her.

The whole situation confuses me to no limits. If these rouge followers were after the power of the Time Stone, then they should attempt to retrieve it while three of four opponents are distracted. Instead, they corner Liz, as if she’s their target.

“They’re going to kill her,” Wong worriedly says.

They can't. If anything happens to Elizabeth Stark under my watch, then, regardless of whatever power I have, I will be no match for the wrath that Tony Stark will bring.

“They won’t. The Stones won’t let them.” Vision says calmly, somehow looking worried and smug at the same time, the second emotion something I wasn’t aware he was capable of.

I'm about to ask and get some answers from the android, but Wong tugs on my arm in panic, when the Mindless Ones break the protective shield Liz had around herself and they pounce.

And never in my life have I ever seen a sight like the one where Elizabeth Stark, releases a force field of colours that radiate power; the kind of power that could bring Dimensions to their knees. The kind of power that is no match for the Mindless Ones. The Kind of power that closes the blue portal, and breaks the boundary we’re stuck in. The kind of power that neither me, Wong, or anyone I have ever known is a match for. The Kind of Power that is more powerful than the Green Stone resting in The Eye of Agamotto a room away.

And when the light, and power, and colours stop. When the hissing of the Mindless Ones and the gargling of the portal is gone. When there is nothing but silence, Elizabeth Stark looks at all of us with a smug little smile that she tries to hide.

“ _Now_ can we go to the Stone?”

**Wong**

“Do you know a lot about it?”

We were walking in silence until now. Strange is strategically placed in the front while I place myself in the back. Vision and Elizabeth were walking between the two of us, the latter looking around the Sanctum like a kid in a toy factory.

It was silent, until Elizabeth stalls in her steps and waits for me to catch up to her, asking her question when I look at her curiously.

“Do you know a lot about it?”

I don't make eye contact, looking straight ahead as I ask, “A lot about what?”

She responds with a small shrug, “The Infinity Stones.”

I look at her closely for the first time, watching her jaw clench and her hands ball into fists, and immediately realize that the subject of the stones isn’t her favourite topic to talk about.

So I answer her as honestly as possible, “I've been studying the stones for years Ms. Stark, I know almost everything about them, including the fact that the one who holds their power should walk with pride at the knowledge. It is a great gift to have.”

She smiles bitterly before winding into one of her famously long rants, only this time it's slow and steady and lacks her usual passion and elaborate hand gestures, “It's because of these stones that we have had an alien invasion, a robot try and take over the world, people killed, and orphaned and hurt. And you are going to tell me that these powers are a gift.”

“You didn't seem to have a problem with them before,” I say, remembering her on the live TV during the alien invasion, and her wide smile whenever managed to bring down a group of the Chitauri.

“Of course I had a problem with my powers. It's because of these powers that my mom is dead! But I didn't know that the Infinity Stones even existed then.”

I feel my brows scrunch in confusion, “How so?”

She explains, the elaborate hand gestures making an appearance, and I notice Strange slow his pace so that he can hear as well,

“You see, each Stone controls an element of mine. The Space Stone for electricity, The Mind Stone for fire, the Reality Stone for water, and your Time Stone for ice. In the beginning, my more prominent elements were electricity, and ice because their respective stones were on earth. The Space Stone was fished out of the water, and you had the Time Stone. Then Loki brought the Mind Stone and my fire powers went haywire and the Aether also became exposed to earth and my water powers went nuts. But something happened a couple of months ago in Siberia, and now my elements are slowly getting replaced with the kind of power that Wanda Maximoff and Doctor Strange have, so, I suppose I have to get on with the program.”

I remember the time, a few months ago, when the Mind Stone started to glow and then proceeded to disperse a wave of pure, green power without Strange even opening the Eye. I realize that I have found the source of the attack. Strange tenses as he realizes the same.

I feel myself panicking with suspense as we near the Eye of Agamotto; Elizabeth Stark incited something odd to it the last time and I fear what would happen this time, especially when she’s so close to the stone that resides in it, the stone that most likely will recognize it's master.

My fears are proven correct when we stand in front of the eye and it starts to blink and sizzle green before we even fully get through the door. And Strange knows better than to perform his series of gestures to open it, as the Stone lifts up and presents itself to us, and we all look at Stark who in return looks at the android beside her; her mentor.

“Touch it,” Vision says calmly. Too calmly.

But she does, with blinding faith, she walks up to the Stone, clasps it in her palm at the same time Vision’s Stone blinks, and creates a protective barrier around us. Understanding the message, Strange and I do the same, strengthening the already strong shield, the power almost too much to handle.

It isn’t enough. Not for Elizabeth Stark. Not for the Time Stone.

It releases a wave of green, similar to the one released that day when Stark was in Siberia, but this one more powerful, more lethal, more potent. It strikes through our protective barrier with ease, despite the fact that it consists of Vision’s Stone and it's the moment that I realize.

While the Stones contain a power unknown to any kind, it's not only the green gem that overpowers the yellow one.

It’s the master.

And seeing her standing there, eyes glowing green, a tornado of emerald surrounding her that I know.

Elizabeth Stark can singlehandedly save us all or be our demise

 

 


End file.
